The Renegade
by Robindanewsie
Summary: He's free from the heroes. His best friend is awesome, and his Master is proud of his work. It's all he wanted. Only...things aren't perfect. A nagging memory keeps coming back, followed by another. And another. Master gives the same answer, but it's not enough Richard needs a real answer-and he's going to get one.
1. Chapter 1

**AN) HEY! I got a sequel, thanks for the help guys! I'm using bits and pieces from every review I think. Enjoy!**

The early morning air was almost chilly, that weird mix of the two. Not exactly cold, but it wasn't nice and warm either. He glanced at the sun peeking through the darkness for a second—before he hit the man sneaking up on him with a swift blow. He didn't even have to look, one of his many talents, along with finding the perfect song for the moment.

"Another one bites the dust, and another one go— oh for crying out loud Jason! Shut up!" He whined. He blamed Jason whenever a freaking song got stuck in his head. He might not remember much about the boy—but he was the one to give him music. Sometimes a blessing and a curse.

He looked around at the bodies—they weren't dead—he didn't really like to kill. Unconscious, every one of them.

"Well thanks for the challenge guys." He scoffed, climbing over the nearest form. "Same time next week? I can do Thursday if that works for you."

He chuckled under his breath—fingers smoothly flying over the keys. Eyes glancing from the ceiling to the high tech safe he was hacking into. The ceiling because he didn't know if a hero would show up, or if not. He hadn't seen one for a while, so it would be interesting to run into one. But he'd rather not—he really didn't want to run into a hero today. He needed to get in and get out, without getting any scrapes. He told Scott that they could Skype after he got home from 'Cross Country conditioning'.

A small chirp lifted a grin to his lips. The safe was open now he could take whatever he had been sent to get and get out. He liked this early morning mission—it gave him the rest of the day to train, or watch a movie with Will or even go on a second mission. The first and third possibility more likely than the second—but it had happened before. He smiled to himself as he pulled the wicked cool looking weapon from its casing and securing it in his belt. He had no clue what this thing was-only that it was expensive, powerful, and don't you _dare_ drop it Richard that thing would kill you and destroy the city. So yeah, no dropsy.

He carefully maneuvered over the guards—whistling under his breath as he fired the grappling hook against the building across the way, tucking into a flip as he flew through the air.

"Ta-da!" He landed, throwing his hands up in the air as he stuck the landing. "And the judges have their score—10 points from all!" He gathered the rope up, replacing it in his belt, triple checking on the weapon. "That'll put Romanian ahead for these Olympic games." He may be an American citizen, he may be living in Oldham, England—and he might be close to become a citizen here, but he was Romanian. Any shame he had about being a ' _gypsy'_ had faded after Scott had _begged_ and _pleaded_ to learn Romanian. It had been cool. Really cool.

 _"_ _Diiiick—Dickie please!" Scott sank down to his knees, Dick still leaning against his headboard, sitting up on his bed. He looked down from his book. Scott pulling his biggest pair of puppy dog eyes. "Pleease, man come on!"_

 _"_ _Scott no!" He sighed, Scott groaning and face planting in the bed. "I can't."_

 _"_ _Why not?" His voice was muffled by the bedding. "We could use it as a code so we can send private messages to each other and our parents wouldn't know! Wouldn't that be brilliant?"_

 _He chewed his lip nervously. He was only nine—still not sure what was happening. He was surprised—terrified as three people were in the house. They were neighbors, he had seen them outside before. But…but why were they here? He knew Master was downstairs—talking to the parents. But he was stuck with Scott Daniels. Scott was energetic, he moved around Richard's room—while Richard simply read—praying a beating wasn't coming after. That he behaved as he was supposed to so he could please Master._

 _But he liked Scott. Scott was friendly, but this—Master didn't like it when he spoke Romanian—but he was supposed to do as people asked of him and Scott was a superior and wanted to learn. And he was supposed to…..but Master…..a-and it—_

 _"_ _Dick? You okay?" He saw Scott's bright green eyes peeking in-between the folds of his arms. He had pulled his knees to his chest. But Scott was kneeling next to him. "Hey, mate what's wrong?"_

 _"_ _I d-don't want to."_

 _"_ _Oh." His face fell for a second, and Dick was ready to apologize, and Scott calmly spoke. "Why?"_

 _He couldn't say Master didn't like it._

 _"…_ _.bad memories. My m-mom."_

 _"_ _Where is your mum?"_

 _A sob caught in his throat, Scott backing up slightly. Images of his mother dancing in his eyes—her beautiful eyes her blinding smile._

 _"_ _S-She's g-gone."_

 _"…_ _."_

 _"…"_

 _"_ _I'm really sorry mate, really am." An arm draped around his shoulder. He could feel Scott sitting next to him now. "You don't have to teach me anything."_

 _They sat in silence. Scott would sometimes shift his weight or pat him on the back._

 _"_ _Sorry, I'm really bad at this stuff."_

 _"_ _Y-You're the first_ _prieten I-I'v had."_

 _"_ _Prienten?" Scott butchered the word._

 _"_ _It means fr-friend."_

 _Dick looked over at him, Scot was beaming! He looked delighted!_

 _"_ _Wicked! So, you'll teach me?"_

 _"_ _Yeah, s-sure."_

 _"_ _I'll teach you how to talk right, American." He nudged Richard slightly, the younger boy laughing._

He grinned at the thought of his first friend. Well—he had been 'friends' with Kid Flash in a brainwashed state—but did that really count? Nah, he didn't think it did.

Right now, Richard was no more than a shadow. He slunk through the slowly disappaering shadows of rooftops until he reached a check point. And old restaurant, slipping into the rundown store, he hurried to the back. A rucksack has filled for him—civilian clothes. He shed his uniform, pulling the navy blue hoodie over his mussy hair. Jumping into the cargo shorts that would fit the early summer look. A baseball cap or headphones, he debated—choosing the headphones. Teenagers listened to music a lot—and people might start to leave him alone.

Stepping into the back alley, he chanted the cover story of why a 12 year old was on the metro at 8:30 in the morning without an adult.

" _I stayed the night at my cousin Peter's house and Mum didn't want me riding a cab all the way out to the suburbs. Costs to much. I stayed the night at my cou—"_

It became a mantra as he rode the metro away. He got a few glances, but kept his eyes down and focused on his sketchbook. Finishing up what people call fanart. He stuck his tongue out slightly, carefully erasing the edge of one man's beard—but he left Jefferson's hair alone—it needed the afro style.

He liked to watch people. It was one of his favorite things about the new haunt. There were people above it. Down in the basement, under a trapdoor—was a secrete room. In said room was an elevator shaft running to the real complex. It was _miles_ under the surface—so when Mr. Cobb put in a swimming pool last year, the pool was still 26 miles above the base. That was were he trained, where he got mission assignments and where—where he was punished. Things were better, but Richard had failed before—Oliver Queen was still alive for one thing. Blast the man, and blast Bruce Wayne and his security measures of having police on hand—police with connections to Batman.

That had been strange, but the bats were the bats—they knew every waking movement of their city. Another reason to hate the heroes—they added fifteen lashes to his back and a week under his master's disapproving eye.

He shook the memory away—turning to a new page in his sketchbook. Staring at the blank white for a moment—trying to think of what to draw. A hand gently tapped Richard's shoulder. He turned, removing his headphones. An older woman had turned scooting in the empty seat next to him. She wore a soft cream dress and a light blue skirt with a white purse clutched in her hands. She looked like she was around Will's age. A small graced her weathered face, and Richard couldn't help but to offer one back.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but I couldn't help but wonder what you were drawing?"

He turned the page back—tilting it for her to see, a blush growing against his cheeks. "I-It's uhm...Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton at a cabinet meeting. I r-really like Hamilton so I tried to draw it."

"Well I think you did a fantastic job." His spirits soar, he loves praise—every word of it.

"T-Thank you."

"You're welcome." She pressed a small hard candy into his hand. "Do you mind if I stay here dearie?"

"Oh...sure."

"My name's Mrs. Newly. But you can call me Mary."

H-his mami, his mami's name. It wasn't anything special—Mary was a common name. But he couldn't ignore the warm feeling it gave him.

"I'm Dick...er...Richard." He stammered, Mary laughing softly. "Richard Wilson." Long ago, he had adopted Master's last name—he was posing as his son.

Mary nodded, smiling happily at him. So, he returned to his work—deciding on drawing the man sitting across from him—his eyes never opened, and while he was dressed nicely he looked rumpled. A business man returning home from a long weekend.

Richard felt his gut tingle—the weapon. He closed his sketchbook, sneaking a peek in his rucksack—Mary paid him no mind. Yeah, still safe in the bottom his his black bag. Beginning to suck on the candy...mmmhh, carmel he settled in for the 40 minutes he had left.

This would be one more thing to add to his list. Richard visualized what to write.

 _'_ _Even though I'm a criminal—I take candies from grandma's on metro's.'_

 ** _Breakline_**

Her watchful eye never left the boy. He was an odd one. He carried himself with a forced air, like he was trying to be a normal child. A boy who didn't have a care in the world outside his own fancies. But the truth was plain, for those who looked. This child had been raised to be meek, raised to obey authority. He had grown around a figure who held a refined air—they were proper. He was neat, even though he tried to look disheveled.

And as she looked into his eyes, Mary Newly could hardly breathe. They were captivating. A swirl of every shade of blue imaginable. They held a storm of emotion to them. Carried so much knowledge, the child looked as if they had seen much—like they had endured both nightmares and daydreams. And had some to accept that both can and will happen in a person's life.

Mary was intrigued. She had never, never seen such eyes on such a small person. His smile was the same—sweet and innocent to another person, but a person who paid attention as she did would see the suffering behind it. But yet his lips curled upward with hope.

So Mary watched. She watched him study the people around him, and draw what he saw. She watched in peace until he lurched forward. A hand clenched against his head. A groan leaking out of his lips.

Her hands were on his back immediately.

"Richard, are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine." He lied through gritted teeth, smiling weakly. "I get headaches a lot. Still don't feel too great though."

"Do you need anything?" She didn't want such a special child to be in pain.

"My dad as medicine at h-home. I'll be fine t-till then."

She nodded, she could hear truth in his words, and see it in his eyes.

What she really didn't see was the longing. This happened if he hadn't taken the medicine in a long time. His head felt like it was splitting open—he learned to hide it well enough. But he needed the meds. He _needed_ the soothing numbness they brought.

He was almost to the stop. Then—it was a quick brisk walk or jog home. To the meds, and a call with Scott from his vacation to America.

 **AN) You like? Will Scott discover his friend's secret? Will Mary see this child again? Will Richard every see Hal again? Some questions—hey….could someone do something? Art? I'd really like to see Dick in his civilian outfit with his sketchbook or him in his uniform. Selfish, I know—but I'm sorry. I hope this story is as good as the last—though I doubt it. The original is always the best.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN) Hey! Sorry for the delay! I was on a church mission trip for a week, so no phone or laptop. I'm asking for prayer—my great grandma is in the hospital. She had a mini stroke. She's fine. My dad said she was arguing with the doctors when they took her to the ER—so she should be okay. But please pray for a quick recovery for her? Please? Thanks. So—IbeWildBella check her/him out! They're great! Bella, thanks for working on some art! I'm sure you're an amazing artist-I can't wait to see it!**

Sidling up the sidewalk he nodded along to the music pumping through his headphones. No one was really out and about yet. Mr. Byrne was watering his box garden and Michel Bell was fixing his bike while his girlfriend talked to someone on her cell. All three waved politely to him—Richard barely paid them a second of attention. He had a reputation to uphold.

He was a loner. Only had a few friends. According to his 'father' he was very anit-social, and suffered from a light case of ADHD and social anxiety. Neighbors nodded or smiled—but they all knew Richard didn't like to talk to people. He had trouble paying attention to conversations—another reason he didn't go to school.

He did actually. Richard attended an online acdemy. It was easy enough. He could probably test into any school he wanted, but he needed to be able to train without homework and be able to travel all over the world for missions at a moments notice.

The chilren he would have to go to school with were boring. Richard remembered every bit of a conversation—but they were below his level. Adults tried to humor him and get him to talk about books and movies or what sports he played.

" _Does killing mob bosses count?"_ He mused as he lifted the mail flap to get th paper. " _Or maybe I should say I like parkor—jumping off buildings counts as that I think."_

He paused next to the door, worming around in his pocket for the goshdarn keys—where were they? He let his bag drop to the ground. Hearing a thunk as he remebered the weapon at the bottom.

"Oh...heck no I'm not getting a lecture and whipped now!" He groaned, pawing through his uniform to gt to the bottom. "Just my luck—get it home safe and I nearly break it."

Luckily for his hide and pride, there wasn't any damage. He sighed, plucking the house key from its place.

The house was pretty normal. Two floors, an attic and a basement. Richard walled into the little front room—kicking off his sneakers and neatly lining them up. He was alone for now—Will was off somewhere and heaven only knew where the third man had gone. There was a safe feel to the home. It was neat, orderly. But still felt like someone had lived in it.

Another jolt of pain caused Richard to stumple slightly. He caught onto the corner of the kitchen island. He groaned, closing his eyes as they teared up.

" _Apprentice's don't cry."_ He scolded himself, taking out the earbuds to help releve the pounding headache. " _Don't cry you fricken baby."_

But it hurt so bad. With a hand on the wall he dragged himself toward the basement. Drop the weapon off—get the meds—be fine. That was the three things he needed to do. Oh, he needed to call Master, let him know that he had succeded at his mission. But that could wait...wait until he felt numb for a bit.

The basement was dark—it smelled a little moldy. There was an old pillow fort he and Scott though would be cool to build underground. Will hadn't let the pillows back into the living room claiming they reaked. So they were used as a fort for watching movies, Richard had to go shopping for new living room pillows with Will and that wasn't any fun, and when Master found out Richard was swatted. So he didn't really like the basement. Now—the room under it was fun. That was were all the weapons and training equipment was.

It took a few times to get the lift code right, since Richard felt like someone was stabbing him all over his head. But as he descended into the lair he knew it would be over soon.

He placed the gun thing on Master's desk. Perfectly in the middle, his OCD, everything that was offical should be orderly. It was a side effect from wanted t be absolutly perfect as a child.

His heart beat a little faster out of joy was he saw the Dixie cup and water bottle for his medicine. A smile overtaking his face as with shaking hands he popped the lid and downed the three small pills in one gulp.

Richard had started off taking only two—but as he grew used to the pills effect a red one had been added to help get the same effects as when he began to take the pills.

They tasted a little chalky—that was the part he didn't like. But the numbness, the feeling of calm was worth any bad taste left in his mouth.

There—there is was. It felt like his mind and body were on fire, and slowly—rain was pouring down. Water, cold as ice washing through him. Destroying any pain he had and leaving a cool peace in the fire's retreting wake.

His headache began to disapper. It started to pound less, the pain diminished. Richard smiled—it almost felt like heaven. Yeah, heaven—with soft piano music, Mozart and Bach is it was his heaven, floating in the background. And the air smelled like bread all the time, fresh baked bread. That was how he felt.

Shaking the daze from him he headed toward the lift. He was hungry. Richard knew what he planned to do. Call Master, alert him on his mission outcome, grab one of the last Honeycrisp apples and a lemonade can and call Scott and see what ladmark he had visited with his parents.

He waited only three rings before his call was answered.

"Yes?" No need for introductions.

"Master, mission was a success."

Richard felt his pride swell as he heard the little laugh of aproval from his master. "Very good Richard."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Three hours. Then training begins. Don't forget this time."

A blush started to worm across his face, last time he had over slept durning his free time.

"Of course Master." And then he was hung up on. Richard returned the phone to its place. Already, strange was it seemed, he wanted another dose of the pills. He could just sneak them. No—that was wrong. If he took too much somthing bad could happen. Richard had seen drug addicts—people who took real street drugs. They were _not_ good. And he never wanted to be like them.

So instead he went for the next best thing. Food. He grabbed an apple and the lemonade he wanted, but also a granola bar—and to splurge a bit he snagged a couple cookies Will made. Raisin, the best cookie in his opinion.

Fleeing to his room, flipping open his laptop. That was his twelfth birthday gift—he mostly used it to watch Studio C, ASDF, or Llamas with Hats and music videos. Or to play online games. And Skype Scott.

As he listened to his blonde friend chatter about what sights he had seen in Washington D.C. that day. To which Richard let his eyes widen and his gape ever few seconds—even though he had seen most everything Scott had talked about. And he could confirm for a fact that there wasn't a map on the back of the Constitution. Stupid movie, and stupid defense system. Stupid Americans…..

 _"_ _Wait….I'M American….."_

"DICK!"

"Yeah?"

"You zoned out man."

"Sorry."

Scott shrugged, the glee in his eyes never fading—if anything it increased.

"So—we went to the HALL OF JUSTICE!" Scott cheered, Richard groaning inwardly. Scott, like every other child, adored the Justice League. His favorite was either Red Tornado or the Atom. Richard teased him about liking the 'lame members' but thought they were all lame, brainwashing freaks.

But he let the fanboy side he saved for Hamilton and Harry Potter take over. Letting his eyes go big as dinner plates and his mouth hit the floor. Scott was grinning proudly.

"Yeah, and guess what?"

"W-What?"

"I met Green Arrow and the Flash!" He squealed. Oh for crying out loud! Not those two morons. Scott adored them too—it drove Richard mad-but he had to keep up the act. "And—and they took a selfie with me." Clowns. Scott proudly help up his phone.

Flash had his arm draped around Richard's best friend's shoulders—giving the camera a thumbs up. Scott was wearing Arrow's hat, so the blond masked man looked weird. The archer was the one taking the photo, flashing a smirk and a peace sign. GA's arms were so long you could see Mr. and Mrs. Daniels looking on in the background. Scott beaming like a mad man. Both in the picture and in real life.

Richard gave the most jealous look he could. While he was gagging inside.

"So cool."

He wished Scott would shut up about the stinking Hall of _Justice_. Yeah, justice must really be messed up if kidnapping and brainwashing kids fit the job description. But he bared it all for the sake of two people. Scott and Richard himself. Scott would be in trouble if he found out about Richard's past. Master might hurt him. Master would definitely hurt Richard, and also—Scott could no longer be his friend. Richard needed a friend—badly. Scott kept him feeling like a normal kid, a little.

There were times he lost his mind. He felt like a soldier. Where he couldn't feel….himself. Where he felt like a weapon. He knew he was—he could kill a man with a gun or knife. But sometimes he felt…..empty. And Scott—the fact that a normal kid, thought he was cool was enough.

They bid each other a 'see ya later'. Richard let the rest of his free time run out as he listened to comedy sketches and a few pieces of ribbon art. Switching from his baggy sweat shirt he switched into a less formal uniform. Not his mission one, but one close like it.

"Oh, hey Will." He waved at the older man. He had gotten back sometime.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?"

"Oh…sorry. Headphones were in."

Will sighed, smiling all the less. "Training?"

"Yep," Richard grabbed a water bottle. "Do you know when my master's coming back?"

"Not exactly—but I imagine soon. Your mission went well?"

"Yeah—it's not like S.T.A.R. Labs gets the best guards." He smirked to himself. Will nodded, beginning on dinner. Richard took a double check on the stove clock. 2:15, so dinner in three or so hours.

"You took your medicine, correct?" He nodded as Will turned to look at him. "Good. Now hurry along, before someone looks in the window and sees you wearing _that_."

"Sure." Yeah that would be weird to see him wearing this. So he hurried along, going through his warm up to his music. Rule was—he could listen to music during warm ups and cool down. But not during sparring, weapons training—but he could listen to it during endurance if he was running.

Today he hoped for a challenge.

 ** _Breakline_**

Will couldn't say the boy hadn't grown on him in the past five years. Richard was a good kid. He was friendly, he was hard working. He had truly grown stronger, braver—ever since Slade stopped treating him like an animal. He could tell the child had grown on Slade as well.

Even as Richard stopped suffering under a whip—he was being mistreated through those pills. They robbed him of memories. The Richard William knew wasn't the real one. The pills had reworked his character. It was better than hearing the child scream for every mistake he made, sometimes those mistakes were made up.

But it was the look it those eyes as the pills were mentioned. They lighted up. Richard had to take them, Will had seen his headaches take place. But it wasn't healthy! He depended on them to keep him out of pain.

Richard enjoyed taking them. No teenager, Richard was only thirteen, should be taking pills—drugs like that and enjoying them. That was a problem. And it would have to be fixed.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN) Sorry for the radio silence! This chapter is 3,000 words long! I've had my first dress rehearsal for Wonka, it's a bit hectic. My inflatable suit works though so I blow up! Anyway, on with the show!**

He felt his fingers brush over the line, his feet turning on a dime. And he was off again, pounding towards the second marker, ignoring the burning in his legs and chest. Hand swatted the line, he turned to run the other way.

He moved swiftly, pushing himself against the clock. Pulling in breath after breath, he tried to force himself faster. His master ordering him to do so. But what is mind was screaming didn't correspond with what his legs were doing. He was slowing down.

 _"_ _What are you doing?!"_ His inner voice screeched. _"You are running from Kid Flash, he's ten steps behind you! Move!"_

A low growl escaped his throat. He turned quickly, lengthening his strides. He wouldn't let the kid loser get him. Heck no. But Scott's words rang in his head. The look in his best mates eyes as he gushed about his heroes. The Justice League was adored. Scott worshiped them. They had made Richard's life a nightmare.

The League were hypocrites. They said they stood for justice, for equality, for freedom—yet they had taken Richard, against his will. Tried to shape him to what they wanted him to be, ignoring the fact that what _he_ wanted was to serve his master. Why should they be idolized? Why should they, liars, kidnappers—why should they be adored? The public should know. They should know that the men and women that they revered as _gods_ didn't hold themselves to the standards they told the public they had.

Richard wanted revenge. He wanted to kill Kid Flash, he wanted the Atlantian to fear him. He wished that the clone wouldn't be invincible anymore. He could make them crumble, he could make the Bats be over run in their city. The Amazon could fall in war. He could make the Man of Steel be as strong was a twig—which he could crush under his foot.

He could do all of that. He could drain the courage from Green Lantern—he had before. He couldn't help but smirk at that memory—the pain in the Lantern's voice as he realized his plan had failed. But he also had to remember what he had told the Lantern. He was an obedient apprentice, he followed his master's orders, and he wouldn't go against them. But he couldn't create orders for himself—he couldn't kill, he couldn't steal without his master's permission. And yet—Master wouldn't let him exact revenge on his enemies.

Didn't Master know he was capable? Hadn't he proved himself to Master? He had done so over, and over again. Why wouldn't Master let him to punish the League for their actions? Couldn't he just…just for one day…learn of their weaknesses? He had to know them! He wouldn't be tempted, he would remain loyal to his master—he would! If he learned of secrets the League had revealed he could prove the might of his master. He would make all tremble at the mere mention of his apprentice.

"Richard." He froze immediately, almost toppling over mid-step. He took a soldiers stance, arms tucked behind his back, back straight—his eyes focused straight ahead. He pulled air in, risking at glance at his master. He did not look displeased, but rather impressed. A firm hand landed on his shoulder. "Very good Richard."

"Thank you, Sir." He nodded, the little spark of pride igniting in his chest.

"I must congratulate you on your mission." Master chuckled lightly. "Police forces are baffled as to where to look."

Richard let a thin laugh escape. "Thank you."

Master looked at him for a moment, Richard shifting awkwardly under his gaze.

"You're distracted." Always able to read the truth. "What's bothering you?"

"Master, please I beg you. If I were to discover their weakness—I could bring them to their knees!" Master sighed, this was a discussion they held often. Always ending the same way. "Sir, I want to get revenge. They cannot…freely disrespect you and go unpunished!"

"Richard, I understand you want revenge. But what you are suggesting, to allow the memories to return—I cannot and will not allow it to happen."

"I am not weak!" His fists were balled now, red creeping against his face. "Master, my loyalty remains with you. I have served you faithfully since I was a child, the Lantern's pleas fall on deaf ears. The Martian's powers have no hold on me, their silver tongues carry nothing but lies. Have I not proven myself to you, Master?"

So he was playing the guilt card? Slade knew how badly Richard wanted to destroy the League—but to have him look back on the memories would be dangerous. If he believed them, he would lose his apprentice. Richard wasn't some child Slade could control anymore. No matter what Richard said, no matter if he swore his loyalty would remain with Slade—there was still a chance he could turn. Slade dealt with absolutes, not chances. If it was positive Richard would remain loyal and have access to his memories—Slade would have all of the League's secrets in his hand.

During his silence, the boy had lowered his head—thoughts swarming in his own mind.

He hadn't proven himself. Master still thought him a weak child. Master didn't think he could beat the League, that he wasn't strong enough to take them.

Two fingers curled under his chin, lifting his eyes upward.

"You have proven yourself to me Apprentice. But I cannot risk losing you to them. You are my weapon, to have you fall in their hands would be a catastrophe. You will have your revenge, I promise you. But not the way you ask."

"Master you don't understand! I'm free of their grip, they can't control me. Why can't I—"

"Boy, you will remember who you are speaking to." A gasp caught up in Richard throat.

 _"_ _Watch yourself, brat."_ The evil voice snarled.

"A-Apologies Master." He choked out. He dared glance up, to see the softening anger in his eye. "I-I forgot my place, it w-won't happen again."

"I trust it won't Apprentice." Richard let his head drop slightly, Master began to head away from him—Richard taking the cue to follow. "You're a smart boy Richard. I know you are capable of great things, but you will trust me."

"Of course Master, with my life."

He stood almost awkwardly next to his master in the lift. The man looking straight ahead, his apprentice stealing glances at him—which he thought went unnoticed.

"Go, get changed. Will most likely will have dinner ready shortly."

"Yes Sir." He stood still for a moment, watching Master leave. "Master?" He blurted out the word quickly. The man halted, peering over his shoulder. "After dinner, may I go out?"

"I thought Scott was gone?"

"H-He is. I thought I could go by myself…"

His master seemed to consider it for a moment. "Very well. Don't wander off. Be back before sundown."

"Thank you, Sir." He felt a small sigh escape his lips. He trusted Master, but there were moments when he froze, when fear whispered into his mind. He knew he had nothing to fear, Master was his teacher—almost like his father. But there was no doubt that before…when he was young, disobedient…he had been in a position to fear his master. But he had earned respect and rights, so he needn't fear punishment over trifle things.

But as it had been said, old habits die hard. There were still sneaky voices in his head who hissed things at him. He tried to pay them no mind, but he could hear them. They weren't of the League, thank goodness—but of a strange voice he couldn't make out. It sound slightly like his master's but not exactly.

He had no memory of the Justice League or the sidekicks—spare one. It wasn't even a true memory. It was a melody, it floated through the air. Snippets of words revealing themselves. He heard ' _hero_ , _afraid_ , _I'll_ , and _save the day'_

It was nothing. The Ghost Song he called it. That strangest part of it was, if he thought of it, his right hand felt warm. But it rarely happened—so Richard ignored it.

 ** _Breakline_**

They were curled into a circle, pillows and blankets stashed around them. Chip crumbs, empty soda cans and candy wrappers littered the space around them. The auburn haired boy was reaching into the chip bag, his oxen haired friend groaning at his eating habits. The girl of the group blew a bubble, her green companion laughing as she popped it—the sticky candy covering her nose. The fourth boy tried to open a pack of Skittles.

The all froze, heads turning towards the sound. A voice was raised, echoing down the halls. They couldn't hear what words were said, but they were said angrily.

The older kids had been acting strange lately, they spent more time talking with each other—and not their new teammates. The famous Red Bat had made appearances, usually Nightwing was the only Bat Clan member who was at the Cave. Wally and Artemis had been stopping by more, much to Bart's chagrin.

Today had been the strangest. _Red Arrow_ had showed up. He was never, ever at the Cave—the younger kids hadn't seen him for weeks. And boom—there he was, storming in like someone had blown up his house. He and the older kids had disappeared, telling their young teammates that they needed privacy. So Bart had raided the pantry, opening up a feast of junk food.

"They're getting pretty heated in there." Cassie raised an eyebrow, chomping on her gum a tad louder than normal.

Jaime nodded slightly, "I think that was Roy, or Wally."

"My money's on Con." Gar shrugged, scratching behind his ear. La'gaan shrugged ever so slightly at that idea.

There was a loud crash that sounded like someone had thrown a chair of something. La'gaan tilted his ear toward the commotion—hearing definite swears in Atlantian. There was Kaldur. The other's raised eyebrows—Kaldur never shouted, he was usually very calm.

"What I would give to be a fly on that wall." Jaime let out a low whistle. Five sets of eyes landed on Garfield. He was still eating his Twislers, and very slowly he noticed their stares.

"What?"

"A fly on the wall…" Bart mused, a smile crossing his face.

Gar mouthed 'what' to himself, looking between his friends. Understanding dawned on him. "Guys…if Meg finds out I'll be _grounded."_ Their gaze didn't fall, he shifted slightly under the looks. Until he threw his hands in the air. "Fine! But if I get caught…you have to bring me Oreos."

They nodded, a small price to pay for information. Their friend screwed his face up, disappearing into a smaller, winged form. He buzzed off—his teammates turning back to each other, though they conversed they were anxious for his report.

Gar didn't particularly like flying as a Fly. He preferred a bird, large one at that. A Flacon or Eagle. But he was curious about the yelling. And why Meg had been kicking him out of her room! He was always in his big sister's room, but she would ask him to leave, which he did—he was a good brother—but he would soon hear Meg talking to herself, or sometimes crying. There were strange things turning up in her room—there was a new picture frame on her desk that she didn't let Gar look at.

He barely fit under the crack in the door, letting himself go unnoticed. He landed on the wall, his eyes rest on the older half of the team.

Meg and Con were on opposite sides of the room, Meg crossing her arms, Con balling his fists. Nightwing stood with Red Bat in the middle, the large computer screens pulled up. Artemis was standing between Wally and Roy, Roy leaning against the wall—counting to ten. Wally looked sullen, he was twirling a sliver of something in his fingers. Kaldur was sitting down in a chair (Connor had thrown it, it landing on Kaldur's foot) His left foot resting on his right leg, his hands slowly rubbing his foot.

"I know tensions are running high—but fighting won't bring him back."

"We have to do something!" Wally threw his hands in the air. "Even _your_ mentor's given up!"

"My father has not forgotten him." Nightwing growled.

"Then where are the reports?" Kaldur asked, an unusual ice to his words.

"I have been completing them." Nightwing defended himself. "There has been no new information on our brother's location."

Brother?

"The last time we actually made contact with him was with Hal. We've seen him, or at least heard traces of him all over the world." Red Bat sighed. "He's almost impossible to trace."

"Then step it up!" Artemis demanded this time. "My sister only knows so much."

"So you think we have all the answers? That we can poof him out of thin air?"

And—boom—shouting. Fingers were pointing everywhere, voices rose and fell. The only one not accusing anyone as Connor. Garfield was scared, his team—his role-models were being torn apart. He watched Connor, he suddenly headed for the computer, his face blank. He took control of the keyboard—Nightwing the only one to notice.

There was a screen pulled up, a fuzzy static covering it. Was he really going to watch—the screen came to life. A youthful giggle blasting over the speakers, they all froze. It was almost creepy how they quieted and watched.

A small boy was on the screen. He had large sky blue eyes, which seemed to sparkle. He was an odd mix of tan and pale, a harsh looking scar tracing his left cheek. His black hair stuck up in odd places in the back, his bangs hitting his forehead lightly. He wore a cheap costume. Captain America. He wiggled slightly, as Gar heard Megan's voice.

 _"_ _So, who're you dressed as?"_

 _"_ _Captain America!" He cheered, waving a toy shield around. His smile was blinding._

Gar saw a shirtless Connor in the background, green paint smeared on his chest. He walked awkwardly across the camera's screen—pausing. Looking directly at them he pulled a face, before walking away.

 _"_ _Why are you dressed like Captain America?"_

 _"_ _He's the b-best! H-He's strong and brave! S-Steve wants e-everyone to be s-safe 'nd happy!" He smiled shyly, whispering the last part. "E-Even me."_

Suddenly Wally picked the boy up. He was wearing a cheap costume too—a red and gold one. A mask pulled on top if his head, letting his wild freckles show. He swung the kid about, holding him by his legs. The child shrieked in laughter. Wally smiling happily.

 _"_ _I got ya!" He righted the boy, holding him against his hip._

 _"_ _And who are you Wally?"_

 _"_ _I'm Iron Man! Tony Stark—Steve's best friend."_

 _"_ _B-Bucky's Steve's best friend." The child correct, Wally pouting slightly. "B-But Wally's m-my best friend."_

 _"_ _Yay!" Wally cheered, blowing a raspberry on the boy's neck. "But I'm your Steve too right?"_

 _"_ _Yeah…y-you keep Hydra away." The boy nuzzled his head against Wally's chest. Wally giving the camera the biggest, proudest smile. "Y-you'll protect me."_

 _"_ _Dang right I will, Bucker-oo." His smile softened slightly. The boy lifting his head off Wally's chest, pecking him on the cheek. Wally planted a kiss on his forehead._

 _"_ _My Steve."_

 _"_ _My Buck."_

 _"_ _HOW THE CRAP DO YOU PUT THIS ON?!" Roy voice cut the scene, he stormed into the background, trying to pull a costume on. His head in the sleeve area._

Connor stopped the video. He looked at his quiet friends.

"That's our brother." He spoke evenly. "We're still looking for him. We're all scared, angry—but that's what we need to remember. We gave him a childhood—he personally gave me life. We have to find him. And stay united."

Gar decided that was his cue to leave, he had another activity he wanted to try. He buzzed towards Meg's room. He thought he knew what was in the picture frame Meg never let him see.

He changed in her room, thin shacking hand turning the down-faced frame upward. The boy was there. His toothy smile as he sat on Kaldur's lap. Wally leaned on the chair Kal occupied, giving the duo bunny ears. Artemis stood next to Megan, the girls smiling happily, Meg putting up a peace sign, Arty laughing slightly at her. They were in line with Wally, Connor on one knee besides the kid. Giving the thin smile he had, only he was actually showing teeth. Roy was kneeling next to Kaldur, the archer pointing finger guns at the camera. The kid had an arm wrapped over Kaldur's shoulder, a stuffed Nemo toy sitting in his lap. His small hand waved to the camera.

"Who is this kid?" Garfield mumbled to himself. He apparently meant a lot to the others. But they hadn't mentioned him before, and Gar had never, ever seen him.

He turned the picture frame face down again, so Meg wouldn't think anything about it. He, this time, became a mouse—opting for faster travel. He couldn't fly very well so small.

He barely fit under the door, scurrying to report to his friends. They would most certainly find this interesting. He was surprised he had done all this without being caught, he had snuck past two Bats, a telepath, a clone of Superman, and three other people without superpowers—but weren't useless. That was a pretty good feat, he couldn't brag about it though—even though it would be cool to tell Nightwing he hadn't noticed the changeling. But now—he realized, he wouldn't be getting any Oreos as payment. Well—that was a small price to pay.

"Guys." He gasped, changing back. "You'll never believe what I found out.

"Spill." Cassie commanded. Garfield drew a breath, getting ready to share.

"We have another brother."

 **AN) So…Ta-Da! I hope you enjoyed! Can we get to 20 reviews? Pleeease?! I love you all! Think Positive!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN) Uh…hi? So sorry for not updating this in, well, forever. But I haven't had a lot of time to write. But I got you fanfam. So I got another PR in CC! 27:37, it was really cool! I'm so happy, I finally got a Batgirl onsie from Walmart! It's so comfy!**

Normalcy is a lie. There's no such thing as 'normal'. Richard knew this since he was a child—but there could be 'normal' things. Things that weren't extremely special, things that didn't scream 'insanity' or 'strange'. While people couldn't be normal, things could be.

There was a routine. Richard was dismissed from training. He would help set out plates and silverware and then he could leave. He would switch from his training uniform into civilian clothes. Normally huge sweatshirts, jeans and his favorite pair of socks.

Yes, he had a favorite pair of socks. They were now a dingy white, with a hole on his left heel. He was certain Will was going to dispose of them soon, but he loved them.

He ran a brush through his hair. It did nothing, but the action had been drilled into him through his life, and if Will made a comment about how messy he looked he could claim he had tried to look presentable.

Richard brought down whatever art he had created. Master wanted to see. Even his art would be judged, Richard didn't mind. If he wasn't creating something useful—it didn't make sense for funding. There was a drive in him, to create the perfect picture. That captured everything. Love, hate, war peace, joy and grief—all in one snapshot. He had yet to do so, he had come close, but he couldn't think so what he could draw. So he stuck with ribbons, he wowed Scott with Hamilton, Star Wars and Harry Potter fan art. He even turned in fan art to Studio C, once receiving permission to join the mural committee and paint on in the park.

He tramped down the stairs, staring at the paper in his hands. It was an ocean. Swirls of blue clashing with bright yellows as the sun set into the waters. He had worked on it for three days, deciding this was the best to show Master. While he would've preferred to showcase the Jefferson portrait he had finished, Master didn't exactly…care to see that art all the time. He didn't understand why Richard was so interested in the musical. Yes, Richard loved the music—but he couldn't even explain his interest. Maybe it was a side effect of his medication?

The medication was supposed to help him focus on the present, making him forget the memories the League had implanted. They drew his attention, keeping his mind from wandering too far. If he even tried to think too long or too hard about the memories, which was extremely rare since he hated them, Richard would get a headache.

He gently presented the paper, waiting almost nervously. He had yet to receive a negative review—yet there was always that possibility.

"You drew inspiration from van Gogh's work didn't you?" Master gestured to the swirls or water below the surface.

Richard nodded. "Starry Night, Sir." Richard smiled slightly as a brief smile crossed his master's face. Will snatched it away, still being careful. He knew how much Richard's creations meant.

"Very good." He praised, turning.

He plucked a small magnet off the metallic surface of the fridge. Sliding the paper under it, Will let the drawing hanging onto the surface. The ocean joining in display many other pictures. A safari, jelly fish, a city skyscape, a multitude of musical characters, a highly appreciated portrait of Scott and sketches of people Richard had seen on the metro.

While it seemed—and was—childish for Richard to take pride in his drawings being displayed on the fridge by Will like a parent would their child's messy school projects, it was amazing. To think that his art was so good that Will wished that it be able to be seen, and that his master was disgusted by it.

He twirled his fork across his finger, waiting for Master to begin eating before he started. He no longer needed permission, but it felt right. His knife sliced easily through the meat, he roast beef tender. Richard scooped some of the mashed potatoes on his fork, stabbing a bite of meat and dipping the combination in the white gravy on his plate.

He was starving. While he wasn't as hungry as he had been as a child—those times rendering him able to last without rich food for periods of time—he always pushed himself during his training, leaving him exhausted and his body in need of energy restocking.

Meals were held mostly in silence, conversations over the table were usually better at lunch—when it was only Will and Richard. There wasn't really tension, but Richard sometimes felt like he couldn't speak as he normally would around Master.

He was surprised that he was finished so quickly. _Great,_ he grumbled mentally _, now you have to wait to clean up. No going out for you._

"Put your plate in the sink," Will caught his eye. "I can manage for the night."

"R-Really?" Will waved him off, a smile flickering about his features.

"Back before dark." Master reminded him.

"Yes, Sir." He practically sprinted from the house. Jumping into his sneaker, a light jacket being pulled off the coat rack.

In reality the coat was unneeded, it wasn't terribly chilly. But what was in his pocket was what was important. There was a small notebook. He was doing something stupid, trying to piece together the Ghost Song. He had a few lyrics, and some of the chords. He got headaches, and he really didn't want Master to find him.

So he would ask to leave, and he would work on his project somewhere else. As he walked briskly down the sidewalk, breathing in the sharp evening air, he was unaware of a conversation that might change his future.

 ** _Breakline_**

The sound of running water and scrubbing carried into the air. It was not exactly normal though. Usually by this time the boy was listening to his music. Singing along under his breath to the rock, humming with pop and belting his heart out to musicals. He actually missed the child's voice.

The comfortable silence was broken. "He asked to be off the medication again today."

"Is that so?"

"I don't know how many times he's asked—surely he has to understand it won't be happening."

"What was his case this time?" Will asked, this was the perfect set up for _his_ case.

"Same as always," Slade had a hint of annoyance. "Wanted to exact revenge. He will, but not by regaining his memories. Too complicated."

"Why would it be so bad? It's been five years Slade."

"Will, please. Not you too."

"The boy is _addicted_ Slade. He depends on them to live."

Slade paused a moment, knowing he was toeing a thin line between conversation and lecture, many of which Will had been known to give. "He has become dependent yes, but his loyalty remains intact."

"Then surely it will remain with the drugs?"

"If he stops taking them he'll remember the _truth._ "

Will turned, leaning against the sink's edge—hands soapy. "You can't just pull him off, the withdrawals he has after a day or so without them are bad enough. Don't give him as much. One less pill of the drug and maybe a headache reliever."

"And if he remembers because of this?"

He was so close, if he could sell Slade on it—Of course the answer to that question was not one William wanted to provide, but in order to Slade to agree he would need to.

"Then mind-wipe him like you did before. The serum."

"I hate it when you're right."

"Then you must be angry a lot."

 ** _Breakline_**

They listened with open ears as Garfield explained how the older members had been fighting like crazy. How Wally and Nightwing snapped at each other, Artemis joining the fray. How everyone yelled at each other—except Connor, who then calmed everyone down by showing them a video of their happy brother.

He explained the picture Megan had in her room of the original team with the kid. The possibility that their teammates had kept such a big thing from them was shocking. Questions teeming in their minds. Where did this kid come from? Was he a Leaguer's son? Why didn't the team talk about him? Why hadn't the met him? Was he dead? Did he run away? How could they never have heard of him?

Garfield boasted for a few seconds about how he had snuck past the bats and a telepath, but then wet deadpan about how emotional Megan had looked.

"It was like she had watched her puppy die." He tried to explain. "She looked heartbroken, like she was replaying every happy time she shared with it—but those happy things are now…like…sad. I didn't like it. Even the Bats looked upset…well… _sounded_ upset. Y'know…the masks…can't really see how they feel anyway. Why don't you think they told us? They were talking about finding him, and how much they loved him and stuff."

Bart looked at his friend in shock. He had wanted to tell Gar to spy sooner, he _knew_ what had to happen. That was the worst of it, he knew what was happening. He knew. How many times had he heard the stories? Bart knew who _Richard Grayson_ was-who didn't. Everyone from his time did. How many times had he heard Grayson scream?

The legend of Richard Grayson was huge—resistance leader. He sacrificed himself for the human race—it didn't make a difference, but it gave hope. But something was wrong. Richard Grayson was rescued when he was twelve years old, he had been taken again when he was fifteen and had _overthrown_ his captor and began to topple regimes left and right.

But he hadn't been rescued. Bart wasn't even sure if Dick Grayson existed in this time-line, he had messed up so much. He should've said _something_ about Grayson. He _did_ exist!

What had been happening to him? He remembered the stories, hushed whispers-encouraging words for the slaves to get through the day.

 _Grayson's back is covered with scars, but you should've seen the kid smile. Grayson was locked in white rooms, he has PTSD—I know you can do this. It took forty men to take him down, and he had been beaten the day before—I think we can do this. If we accepted Grayson as a hero when he was a murderer you can forgive someone for cheating rations._

He watched his friends freaking out over the idea of a new brother. Yes, it was exciting. But Bart wanted to scream—what they were suggesting, fantasizing.

"What if he's like a secret agent?" Jaime suggested, Cassie smacking his arm.

"That would by why he haven't heard about him!"

"But why were they sad?" Garfield mused.

"Maybe because he had to go off the grid, they miss him." La'gaan shrugged. "That's why they were talking about not hearing from him."

 _"_ _No! No, he probably being tortured! He's being held hostage! He might be forced to be a villain!"_ Bart tirades inwardly, trying to keep his face blank of any rage or emotion. Simply interested.

But twists were filling his stomach. What if he had done something? What could he have done? He didn't know where Grayson had been rescued from, he couldn't tell them where to look. But what Beast Boy had told them, how angry and sad the older kids had been—he should've told them that at least in Bart's future Grayson was saved for a bit.

Nightwing had told him _never_ to tell them of the future. Nothing of it, absolutely nothing. But…wouldn't they want him to tell them about this.

Brat shook his head, biting his lip slightly.

"We got to find out more about this kid." Jaime spoke. "It's going to drive me insane if I don't know." There were nods of agreement, Bart felt himself nodding along as his friends turned back to relaxing.

 _"_ _Not as cray as it's going to drive me though."_

 **AN) That's a warp! Hey…uh…if anyone knows if 'A Lonely Rainbow Girl' is okay please tell me, I saw a review on one of her stories that made me nervous. And dlsky, if you read this, please review. I really need your good advice! Thanks guys! Please review! Also check out IbeWildBella's spinoff of Apprentice, it's really good—and hopefully reaching the amazing ending soon! Have a great week guys!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN) Uhmmm…hey! Sorry *dodges rotten tomatoes* for the radio silence. I've been super busy with Fall Play, school and basketball. Happy Thanksgiving! My family dinner is on Sunday. I wrote this between studying for a Biology exam, any study tips?**

Bart stood nervously outside the door. He had slipped away from the movie his friends had started, he really wanted to talk to Kaldur.

Pulling in a deep breath he tapped on the door, wincing as the sound was louder than he wanted it to be. The door cracked open, Kaldur's tired face looking out at him.

"Yes Bart, what can we do for you?" He sounded like he was four seconds away from falling asleep, or maybe bursting into tears—possibly both.

"I…I wanted to talk with you guys…if that's okay."

Kaldur smiled sadly, "while we would normally rejoice to have your company we are in a meeting. Can this wait for another time?"

"No!" He shouted, Kal looking rather startled.

"Is there something wrong?"

He was wringing his hands nervously, not exactly sure on how the older kids would react. "I want…to talk about Richard Grayson?"

Kaldur's eyes went as wide as Bart's appetite was big. A hand jutted out, snaking around his pale wrist and yanking him into the room.

"Kaldur, what's h—"

"He knows about Guppy." Kaldur spoke, his voice cracking on his last word. Wally stared at him, his face slowly breaking into joy.

"He's from the future…why didn't we think oh that before!" Wally grabbed his shoulders. "Do I get him back? Is he safe? Did he get to be Cap for Halloween? Bart, please tell if my brother comes home!"

He blinked, Wally had tears building his emerald eyes. Bart wasn't sure what to say…because none of that happened. How could he say Richard was rescued…but had to be kept in a mental facility…because he refused to accept that he wasn't a villain? That he had nearly killed himself three times before he was kidnapped again?

"Hang on." Artemis stepped forward. "As much as I want to find him, aren't we not allowed to know about the future?" She spared a glance at Nightwing.

"Does it look like I care anymore?" Bart was shocked. "Spill it Allen."

He glanced around at anxious faces— _now or never._ "He's awesome!" Words began to bubble over. "A legend! It took 50 guys to take him down! 50! And he doesn't even have powers!"

He began to rant about the amazing and awe inspiring feats Grayson had accomplished. The team looked happy. Their brother ended up the hero…it had been all he had wanted as a child.

"Did we get him?" Megan asked, going to cry if they did—or didn't.

Bart's face fell flat. "Well yeah." There were shouts of joy and hugs thrown on him and on one another. Wally had picked his fully off his feet awkwardly pinning Bart's eyes to his sides, swinging him around. Wally began to jump, shouting at super-speed. Bart had to tell them—he couldn't lie to them. But was he lying exactly? They hadn't asked exactly…but… "But hehadtogotoamentalhospital." Whoop there it is.

He spat the words out like venom.

Wally looked at him nervously. "What'd you mean, he had to go to a mental hospital?"

"Don't quote me on this!" Bart held up his hands in a 'don't shoot' position. "It's just what I heard…I never met him—jeeze what I'd give to meet him—anyway, I heard he was a little…messed up in the head when you got him."

Disappointed faces met him, and Bart immediately felt like it would have been a million times better not to say anything.

"That's…that's to be expected." Kaldur bowed his head slightly. "He is being held by Slade after all."

"Do you know where Slade might be?" Red Bat pressed.

"I don't. All I know's from the stories." Bart smiled sadly, he wished he had more. He watched as Megan crumbled, Artemis rubbing her shoulder—Conner crossed his arms, trying to keep from seeming too emotional. He couldn't get a read on the Bats—as usual—but the air around them seemed disappointed. Kaldur was quickly brushing the skin beneath his eyes, Wally letting the tears run freely down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wish I co—"

"Bart, you've done all you can." Megan mustered up a weak smile. "Thank you for telling us that he was happy for a while, that's all we wanted him to be—happy." A gentle kiss was planted on his forehead. "Why don't you go play with the other kids?"

He nodded, sliding out awkwardly. Hands stuffed in his pockets—he wanted to ask so many questions. What was Grayson like? Was he a comedian? Did he like sports, or music or both? Bart wanted to know what Grayson was like so if they met—no, _when_ they met, they could be best friends.

What would it be like to be friends with _Richard Grayson_? Bart wanted to be his friend, his _best_ friend. He wanted to just laugh with him, to run around on the beach, to go to the midnight previews of their favorite movies, just to do what he did with the guys—but with _Richard fricken Grayson_! He had daydreamed about stopping villains and freeing Earth with Grayson…wouldn't just be crash?!

"Bart! Where'd you go?" Jaime bent his head over the edge of the couch, the others briefly turning their attention from _Now You See Me_ to hear his response.

"Just had to run to the bathroom."

"You were gone pretty long."

"I stopped for a snack." He shrugged, flopping down across his friend's laps. His head resting on Jaime's, his back on Cassie and his feet on La'gaan. There was a light _thumb_ on his chest, glancing up there was no a green cat resting on him.

"Course you didn't bring us any." The cat purred.

"So sue me." He teased. "So fill me in—why are the cops chasing themselves?"

So the team talked over each other, trying to explain the already confusing movie—they hardly knew what was going on themselves and theories were being thrown around. Bart chimed in with his two cents—forgetting about Grayson for the moment.

 ** _Breakline_**

A stack of papers was clutching in his hand, the sun blaring down on his back. He had been on the corner since he had left work, his car parked on the curb. The number of papers he held slightly less than he had started with, but not by much.

"Excuse me sir," he stepped towards the blading suit wearer with a flier outstretched, "have you seen this boy?" The man shook his head, not really looking at him. "Sir, please—he's been lost for five years…" But Hal got ignored…again.

He sighed, this had been his routine after work for years. He would go all over the city, hoping someone had heard or seen something. Hal wanted to do everything he could to find Dickie. Except get the police involved. How could he explain that?

" _Yes hello officer my son…well the kid I was going to adopt has been kidnapped by the mercenary who trained him and abused him for three years and I need your help to find him. Yes…oh how did I find him? Well when the Justice League and I busted the mercenary and the kid was there. Yes, the Justice League…I'm Green Lantern…duh."_

That conversation was one he'd like never to happen.

A loud trill echoed from his pocket, Hal looking down quickly. He snaked a hand into his pocket, bringing his phone up to his ear.

"Hal, have you gotten the cake yet?"

He paused, not sure why his wife would think he would be getting a cake.

"What cake?" There was a stiff silence, Hal could hear voices and running footsteps in the background. "Carol where are you? It sounds like a party." He laughed slightly.

"Harold Isaac Jordan, do you know what day it is?"

"June 14th?" He asked. A pit in his stomach opened as he realized the importance of the date. "Carol I am so sorry, I'm running to the bakery right now."

"No need, I sent Stacey half an hour ago." She sounded so mad, Hal knew he deserved it.

"I'm sorry—"

"You don't need to apologize to me. Christi's crushed."

"How's she handling it?"

"Playing with the Evans boys. But she's wants her dad. Get. Here. Soon."

"I'll be there in ten. I promise."

He turned the keys quickly, flooring the gas. What kind of a father forgot his daughter's seventh birthday?

 ** _Breakline_**

He closed the door quietly, smiling at the neighbors and parents of Christi's classmates. He received a few judgmental looks, which he deserved. Hal made his way to the kitchen, knowing Carol would be in there.

"Hal Jordan," her smile was bitter, venom laced in her eyes, "so glad you could _finally_ make it to _your daughter's birthday party."_

He looked sheepishly, leaning in to kiss her forehead. Carol stepped away, picking up a platter of cupcakes. "Carol, I—"

"What was it this time? Traffic? Pokémon?" Those were terrible excuses. "Hal," she sighed at his silence, "don't tell me you were looking again."

"Sorry." He blushed. "I ju—"

"No." Carol glared. "We're cutting the cake, grab the knife and get out there."

He heard his wife calling everyone to the dining room, shrieking laughter of little children as he stood next to her. Christi led the charge, her long hair pulled into a ballerina bun, her favorite pair of overalls and county fair shirt making and appearance. Hal smiled as she hugged him, wrapping his arms around her.

"Daddy you came." She smiled.

"Of course I did Princess." He kissed her forehead.

"Get ready to blow out the candles sweetie." Carol pulled out a chair near the My Little Pony cake.

He sang along, the guilt in his chest diminishing as he watching his little princess blow out her candles.

 ** _Breakline_**

There had been an icy tension between the two ever since the party. Carol hadn't spoken a word to him as they cleaned up the cups and wrapping paper. Hal knew he deserved her anger, but he really didn't like the silent treatment.

He glanced over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs to tuck his baby girl in. Carol was running the vacuum, getting all the crumbs swept up. He passed the permanently closed door that was Dickie's room.

He smiled at the light purple walls that greeted him, Christi was already in bed, reading a book.

"Hey princess." He sat beside her, Christi looking up.

"Daddy, why were you late to my party?" Hal opened his mouth to say something, but no words could explain. "You didn't forget, did you?" Christi looked so sad, Hal wanted to die. He let her down again.

"Of course not, Daddy just got a little…sidetracked."

She looked into his soul with his eyes, her mother's air framing her face. "Were you looking for my brother?"

"Yeah…yeah I was." He gently patted her knee. Christi looked away from him.

"He's not really my brother." She whispered.

Hal nodded, "yeah, but when we find him he will be." He gently brushed her hair off her face. "I love you birthday girl—get some sleep."

Hal slowly shut the door, jumping as a hand rested on his shoulder.

"How long have you been there?" He asked, knowing the answer was 'long enough'.

"Hal, I know you love him. I love him too, but you need to stop."

"Stop what?" A pit of anger rose inside him. "Looking for a kidnapped child? Trying to save him from abuse?" The League told him to stop, to calm down—they had betrayed him. Even Kyle and Guy and John, but never Carol…she couldn't turn now. Not now. "Try to stop finding my son?" His voice was nearly a scream.

"Stop living in the past and look at what you have!" She shouted back. "You forgot your own daughter's birthday party while you were trying to find that boy! He's not your son Hal, he's not. You need to look at Christi, she wants a father—you're so worried about being a father to that boy your forgetting that you have a daughter!"

Hal blinked. That couldn't be true…he wasn't…he couldn't be…

"Mommy?" Christi was at her door. A bad idea to fight outside it. "What's wrong?"

Carol wiped the angry look from her face, smiling sweetly. "Nothing's wrong sweetie, Daddy just needs to sort out some priorities. Go back to sleep, nothing's wrong."

Christi looked uncertain, but listened and shut her door. The angry look was back on Carol's face. "Figure out which child you're going to love Harold, because it apparently can't be both."

 **AN) Carol be mad, you better run Hal. Anyway, please review. I would like some ideas please? Thanks…I'm so thankful for you guys! Peace out Girl Scouts!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN) Hello! I'm really sorry for the delay, but I've kind of lost inspiration for this. But I'm slowly finding it again! Right before…I have no time to write, yeah that sounds like me. Well I hope you all had great holidays and enjoy this!**

If Finals week and tech week had a baby and it was raised by thunder storms it would be the day Megan was having. The bi-monthly meeting had not gone well, more fighting and no progress made. She had declined La'gaan's company, preferring to let Gar jump on her lap as a little Basset Hound, droopy ears making everything a little better.

After a while, Gar has his normal self at her side—the green siblings watching their favorite show. Megan was so drained, emotionally and mentally. As much as she had grown, she still didn't like conflict—especially within her own team. And ex-teammates she supposed, Wally and Artemis. Connor was annoyed that they were being so demanding since they weren't even in the fight anymore. And that made Megan angry. Wally had such a strong connection with Dick, it would be awful if he abandoned the boy. And Artemis wanted to make things right between them so she was desperate to find him as well.

What would Dick be coming back too? Her and Conner fighting, Wally no longer Kid Flash, Kaldur becoming more distant from them all, and new kids. Raquel and Zatanna! He had never met them before either. Red X gone…how could he come back to that?

"Meg?" She stirred, turning to face her brother. The smooth wood was a huge contrast to his green. Megan's eyes growing wide as she recognized the picture he held. "Who's this?"

She pulled, mentally. Their family picture flying away from him. "No one Garfield."

"Hum…that was definitely a person sitting with Kaldur." He crossed his arms. "Come on sis! You can tell me."

She sighed, tracing a hand over the glassy surface, swirling a finger across his smile. It would be so nice to tell his story.

"His name is Dick, he was such a cutie." Megan laughed slightly, raising and arm to call Garfield closer. He tucked under it, looking at the picture with her. "We were supposed to take care of him, he was our mission. Our most important one."

"What happened to him?"

"He was kidnapped."

"By who? I'll beat them up for you Meg." He balled his little fists, punching half-heartedly at the air. She squeezed him.

"Thank you Garfield, but I don't want you going anywhere near that man. I don't want to lose my second brother."

"But I want to make you happy!" He pointed at the picture. "If he makes you happy I'm getting him."

Gar couldn't go near Slade, she would rather die than ever have him be hurt. As much as he wanted to help others and use his powers to do so, and Megan wanted him to be the hero dearly, she already lost one brother to Wilson—and the team couldn't handle another loss.

"The League is going to find him, and when they do—it would make me very happy if you were his friend." His smile was wide enough to show both pointed teeth. "He's going to need a friend, can you do that for me?"

"Sure thing sis. Does he like dogs or cats?" He morphed between the two quickly. Megan threw her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sure he'll like you as you, little brother."

 ** _Breakline_**

There were about fifty more shirts he had to fit into his suitcase, but judging by the amount of clothes he had already it probably wasn't a good idea. Alfred would murder him if he ruined any.

Terry zipped the lid closed, before groaning and heading toward the bathroom for toiletries. Always slipped his mind. Returning with shampoo and facewash in hand, Terry jumped maybe a centimeter in the air because of Damian. In all reality should he be startled? The demon did this a lot.

"Hello Satan." He settled the bottles in his bag. "You mad Bruce chose me to go instead of you?"

"No." Terry held back his laughter at the obvious anger in Dami's voice.

"Sure, sure. Why else you would come visit me before I left? It's not like you care 'bout me. Or do you?" He gasped. Damian rolling his eyes, his signature move, and tutted slightly—also a signature move.

"I simply came to ask your thoughts about the team's actions in today's meeting. Not that I really care what you think."

"Heh." He moved the luggage next to the door, starting to work on his carry-on and travel entertainment. "Well, they are justified in being angry. Five years is a pretty long time. And they did spend more time with the kid." He sat on his bed, pausing to actually have a conversation if need be. "And I think they're used to us or Bruce have the answers within a few weeks."

"I understand their concern, I do not wish for Grayson to be a criminal—but they have to understand who we're trying to track."

"They do. And that's what scares them." Terry was scared by Deathstroke to be honest. One eye, no mercy rule—pretty creepy for a fifteen year old to meet.

Run in on a mission. Batman had been there, Terry figured his mentor would win with ease in like…ten minutes. But it had ended in a draw, both tired and Terry hurt, so losses had been cut and battle over. He didn't like to think about that fight in particular. Actually being in close contact with the guy was probably a living nightmare.

"Yes but Grayson—"

"We'll find him…eventually."

"That's what we've said for five years." Damian mumbled, Terry feeling his shoulders sag.

"So we'll say it till we do." He offered that patented 'Big Brother who has to hold crap together' smile. "Help me pack? I've got a red-eye to catch."

Damian walked out, a cold, "I hope you drive on the wrong side of the road," thrown over his shoulder.

"I'll have a chauffeur! Take that Satan!" The dry laugh the followed confirming their friendship. "Tim get my bag!"

"Why me?"

"Cause the anti-Christ will kill me if I ask."

 ** _Breakline_**

Another verse had been figure out, Richard smiled to himself. The notebook tucked safely behind his headboard.

He was surprised that there wasn't a mission that night, usually would be. Instead, the next morning would be a scoping mission. It was common before an assassination. He and Master would usually walk to the block as civilians, Richard getting a feel for the places to hide and find an alternative access if his sniper post was compromised. It had happened before—the building across the street had changed the date of their electric wiring so people had been on the roof.

He hated it. Blood. It was because of the blood. The people he killed, he knew they deserved it. They were killers themselves—but that red liquid. Richard could remember trying to keep it from spilling out of himself, he could still hear the crack of the whip and the blood rolling off his back.

He really didn't want to hurt everyone. So he was quick about it—trying to be as clean as possible. He didn't like the idea of it. One target…okay, as long as they really deserve to die—and most did. But the first time—the night secretary died.

He had been with Master. Richard had taken out the target, not very well. He managed to scream—and boom. Young woman runs in. Pretty, skinny. Red hair with brown eyes. She has stared, screaming her bosses name in surprise. She had stared at Richard and his master. Before the gun was leveled and her fleeing back. And her yellow cardigan had a red stain. That was Richard turn to scream

He understood. She would've filed a report, and they would've had to leave Oldham—have to leave Scott. Richard didn't want to hurt the innocent, he was protecting them! Making sure no one was orphaned like him, no one was hurt by evil. He was taking his own innocence to protect others.

His blue eyes were transfixed on the people around him, mother's hurrying along children, teens taking up the whole sidewalk, lovers with hands latched and heads close, old men with canes hobbling along—and he was just in the middle of it all. Buildings soared around him, financial district. Another business owner probably, most likely embezzling funds.

"An immigrant embezzling our government funds. I can almost see the headline your career is done." He half hummed the words, head turning as someone walked briskly past and bumped into him.

The boy almost shouted at the man to either fight him or get some glasses.

"Careful Richard." A hand grabbed onto his hood and pulled him along.

"Jerk didn't even move!"

"He probably thought you would."

He huffed, tired of being knocked around because he was short. Richard glanced up toward his master, still about three or four feet short. Some assassin he would make.

His eyes were caught by the building he was targeting, people in front of it. He noticed a young man who looked a lot like him. Black hair slicked back, pale features and piercing blue eyes. Only difference was the dress. Pressed suit and a very nice looking watch on his wrist. It would probably fetch a pretty penny on the black market. Who this guy was Richard didn't care.

He pulled away slightly.

"And where are you going?" The amusement in Master's voice causing him to smirk.

"Just practicing." And he gave a quick salute, jogging toward the man.

He pulled out his IPod, pretending to drop it a few feet away from his target. Diving for it he released an awkward screech. Richard caught the device easily, but still fell himself.

"Jarvet's hat!" He cursed as he rolled himself over to his butt. The target and the man he was talking with looked down. "Heheh…sorry." The target reached down…with the watch hand. _Yes!_

"No problem kid, are you okay?" Richard grasped his wrist back, allowing himself to be pulled up. Quickly he unlatched the watch, sliding it into his sleeve. No one noticed…yet.

A funny look crossed over the man's face. His eyebrow arched and lips parted slightly, but Richard could care less. He basically had 500 bucks in his sleeve.

"Yeah, thank you." He waved slightly with his IPod hand and jogged away. With the watch, man rich people were stupid.

He could recognize his master from behind, and laughing ran up behind him—quickly tapping the man on the left shoulder and jumping over to the right side. Laughing, he quickly palmed the watch to the man—make since for an adult to have a good watch rather than a kid.

"Very good."

"Per usually." There are times he thinks he would be better as a petty thief rather than a mercenary—it's more enjoyable for him.

"I see you've met your target."

"Really? That guy?" He twisted around, pointing at where the man had been. "He doesn't seem like the evil type."

"He's the one on the contract."

Blood began to freeze ever so slightly. "So…he's not that bad?" Not another innocent, please.

"Yes. Don't lose your head when it happens, I know you don't like blood but you need to get used to it."

His mouth was dry. An innocent…and by-hand murder? This—this was too much. But it was orders, if he didn't do it Master would be angry, then he'd carry the contract out himself and probably make Richard watch and beat the snot out of him later.

" _I'll donate some of the watch money to charity. To make up for it."_ He told himself.

 ** _Breakline_**

Terry had noticed his watch went missing. But it—it was _him._ He would recognize those blue eyes anywhere…and that voice. If that kid wasn't Dick Grayson Terry would let Damian take the next trip.

He excused himself quickly, ducking into his ride. Pulling out his com, Dickie wasn't the only one who had been sneaky. It was one of his own design, and unfortunately Terry wasn't very advanced at tech so the chip only picked up audio. And he had heard enough.

That was definitely Slade, and Terry was definitely going to be killed. So he deactivated the chip, hoping it would fall off once the power was cut. He didn't want Slade to find it and hurt his brother in any way. Besides, the bat had a plan.

Terry closed the window between him and the driver, keeping his voice low. "Red Bat to Nightwing, come in Nightwing."

 _"_ _Nightwing to Red Bat."_

"I need you to meet me in Oldham, bring the team."

 _"_ _Why Terrence? In over your head?"_ Damian sounded so snide.

"Sort of, I'm the target of Deathstroke's apprentice."

The silence was brief. " _I'll come at once with Drake."_

"And the team. We need everyone."

 _"_ _Understood."_

 **AN) Well…this should be fun! I hope you all review, I love to see them since school is starting again at the end of this week. *faint screaming in the background from offstage* Spot and Alex already have anxiety. Also! I've watch Les Mis and am in love so check for that and tell me where you find it. Peace out fanfam!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN) …sorry? I've been rather busy with basketball and musical. I got a pretty be part, only freshman not in the chorus. I've also been writing a script again, I think I have a good chance of winning. So…I** ** _Finally_** **had some free time and wanted to dish out something. Enjoy!**

Conner leaned apprehensively against the Bio-ship wall, watching his teammates in silence. Red Robin had zeta-ed in from Jump City immediately, he and Nightwing arriving at the Cave.

 _"_ _Is there a mission?" Jaime asked excitedly, the younger team practically bouncing with anticipation._

 _"_ _Yes but not for you." They seemed to deflate, La'gaan puffing his chest in anger._

 _"_ _Why not? We're just as much members of this team as they are." He gestured to the originals._

 _"_ _There is no doubt that you aren't, but this mission is ours." Red Robin looked eyes with Wally. The ginger raising an eyebrow. "It's him."_

 _Wally's face had melted, eyes widening and a smile creeping on his face. "Y-You're serious?" A short nodded, broke him. "You're not kidding? You found him?" He was shaking, Artemis wrapping her hand around his. "You found my Bucky?"_

 _"_ _We found him Wally." Red Robin smiled slightly. He was swept off his feet by the blur of red and yellow. Kaldur was totally out of character, screaming 'yes' at the top of his lungs as he jumping around in circles and punching the air._

 _Conner jumped as Megan threw her arms around him, Conner holding her instinctively. They…they found his brother. He squeezed Megan tightly, smiling into her hair._

 _"_ _Enough." Nightwing groaned. "We cannot waste any more time. Red Bat is in danger." They quieted down. "Richard is been assigned to kill him."_

 _"_ _Who's gonna do what to who?" Garfield asked, as Bart shouted._

 _"_ _You got to stop him!"_

 _"_ _We will Bart," Kaldur placed a hand on his shoulder, his composure regained, "we will take care of Richard." The younger hero nodded._

 _"_ _No time for talk." Conner let his arm drop off Miss Martian. "Bio-ship now."_

 _The bat spun, letting his cape flash out and stormed from the main room. Wally raced after him, sweeping Artemis up with him._

 _"_ _What about us?" Cassie asked._

 _"_ _Stay here." Megan smiled slightly. "Be good."_

 ** _Breakline_**

"Stay here?" La'gaan yelled, throwing his hands around wildly. "Be good?"

Bart's eyes danced toward him, almost rolling at his behavior. He was…excited. RICHARD GRAYSON! HE WAS GOING TO MEET RICHARD GRAYSON! He was mentally screaming…he was going to see—with his own eyes—the legend that _almost_ saved the human race.

For all of the excitement he had, he was terrified. His idols story wasn't a happy one. He had been held hostage by a mercenary. For a while—Bart hated to think of it—but he had been a villain. But he had changed, he was a hero! Bart was scared to find out what he went through, because it probably wasn't pretty.

"Hey, hermano—you okay?" Jaime asked, nudging him slightly.

"Wha—yeah. I'm totally crash." He smiled.

"You are a terribly liar." He shook his head. "Spill."

"I'm just a little nervous for Wally, that's all."

Jaime looked suspicious, but didn't press any further. Gar looked at him, a knowing look.

"They're treating us like children!"

"La'gaan clam down." Cassie sighed. "So we're not on one mission…big deal."

"This is a personal mission for them." He was surprised to find himself speaking. "A vendetta, just for them. So _shut up."_

There was a stiff silence, Bart pulsing in anger. He stood, actually _walking for once in his life._

"Where you going?" Beast Boy asked.

"Out."

"I find that answer vague and unconvincing." Jaime snorted at his friends joke. He figured Bart knew something they didn't—being from the future and all—and needed some time alone.

 ** _Breakline_**

Terry had been fighting the urge to scream after he heard Damian's plan. The plan: wait around for the assassin and stop him then. Terry trusted his brothers with his life—but it was a little nerve wrecking to have to sit around until someone _came to kill you._

He had been shadowed all day, on the off chance Slade had Dickie take a move before nightfall. Megan shape-shifted into a secretary during the meeting, Kaldur had followed him to the café, Wally had posed as a bell hop. And of course Tim and Dami were in the shadows all day.

He sat behind the desk in the office he had been given during his stay, time-zones still screwing with him. It was almost eleven, Terry rubbed his eyes slightly. He was used to late nights but jet lag stank.

The team was outside, on the roof. The ship in camo mode. His ears caught the sound. It was slight, something in the vents.

 _"_ _Like Jason…"_ He mused sadly, tensing with pen in hand. Heart pounding like a drum, this would be the first time in _five years_ he had seen the kid. And he would be holding a gun. Not the way he wanted them to be reunited.

Terry had wanted there to be smiles and hugs, Dick to fall in their arms—to go home save to Hal and Carol. He didn't want to fight him—Dick must be so scared. He had to have gone through so much…why wasn't he here yet? He was in the vents—what was he waiting for?

 ** _Breakline_**

He wanted it over. He wanted to open his eyes and have the job done—he couldn't do it. He wanted to say so…but the guy was right below him and it would blow his cover.

Richard gulped in air, tightening his grip on his sword. He wished Master would just let him use the gun…close contact with the victim was terrible. Now or never.

He kicked down, letting himself fall to the ground. Landing in a crouched position, the man in front of him leaping from his desk.

"Who…who are you?" He stuttered, eyes wide. Richard scowled, standing upright. "What do you want?"

"Nothing personally, but someone with a checkbook bigger than mine wants your head." He smirked. The man paused, sometimes Richard knew how they were, but sometimes it made it easier to not know.

"C-checkbook? I can promise you mine might be a little bigger." And of course he started to reach for it in his desk. The bribes always came.

"Doubt it." He drew the blade, the man stumbling back. "Please, I'm tired and it's going to happen eventually." He stepped closer, knowing he wouldn't put up much of a fight. Not one he couldn't beat anyway.

He wasn't prepared for the doors to burst open. He cursed mentally, not wanting to deal with security guards. This was worse.

Bright red and yellow, blue and green and black. Richard was the one to back up. No…not _them_ …not now. His hands wrapped around his weapon tighter.

"Dickie?" Kid Flash stepped forward. "Hey man, can you give me the sword? Please kiddo?" Did he think he didn't know? That they were friends?

"Stay away from me." He snarled, pointing the blade at him. Hands held up, Kid Flash moved closer.

"I know you are scared Guppy," the Atlantian spoke, "but we are not going to hurt you. Please, we will help you."

"I don't need your help. I need him _dead_." Richard moved the blade toward the target. The business man looking to the heroes for help.

"Dickie, give me the sword. You're not going to get in trouble for what you've done I promise. It wasn't you Buck…it was Sl—"

"Don't speak an ill word about my master!" He cried, drawing the sword closer. The team had a confused look for half a second—his accent changed. "Speak one word against him and your blood won't bother me!"

"Dick, you need to put that down." The archer commanded, she removed her quiver setting her bow next to it by her feet. Her mistake. "Look, I'm putting mine down—we're just going to talk, like family."

"I'm not your family…you duffer." He scoffed. "Not after what you did to me!" He froze, a pull on his mind—immediately his eyes snapped on the Martian. "Get. Out." He snarled. The clone turning on her.

"You'll fry his mind!"

"No I wasn't!" She snapped, the feeling leaving him. "I was trying to get rid of whatever happened to him."

"More like do it again. You're not brainwashing me!" Kid Flash moved toward him. "You're not going to get me—stay back!"

Wally froze at the anger, his masked eyes were slatted, pure rage on him. He sighed, Nightwing in the window he was backing towards.

Richard sprung back, trapped. _Hail fricken Hydra_. The Gotham bats…darn. The second oldest whipped out and tried to grab his sword, but Richard's reflexes were faster. His foot rocketed against the gloved wrists, a hiss of pain bringing him little satisfaction.

Richard hadn't wanted to do this, he wanted to prove he could handle anything unexpected. But Gotham was too much. He activated the comm.

"Sir, several heroes on site. I'm overpower—"It was gone, his turn to grab his wrist in pain.

"Sorry." Nightwing smirked. Richard wanted to scream. This wasn't real. No, he would wake up and go on the mission—with no heroes. He didn't feel safe. He always felt safe under Master's orders, but this wasn't good.

Someone was behind him, he jumped—wrapping legs around a neck and throwing them to the ground. Something pricked him—as the body fell before him. The bird dude…Richard knew his name—why couldn't he remember?

His sword fell, hands flying to his head. It was cloudy, like his pills. But this wasn't good. This wasn't Master's orders. N-No… no!

Hands were reaching toward him, he struck them away. "Get a-away!" He attacked wildly, his limbs not responding the way he wanted them too. Arms tightened him to a chest.

"Breathe Dickie, it's me…its Steve."

"G-Get off…" He gulped, the rare tears he had squeezing out. "…way from m-me."

Wally watched him go limp, struggling and trying to shout. What had Slade done to him? This wasn't his Dickie. Dick would've run to them, he would've beamed when Kaldur called his Guppy, he had brought Guggy and left him in the Bio-ship.

He figured things had happened, but not this. What…what chip was in him? What was keeping his brother from him?

"Get him on the ship." The bait pulled his sleeves down, Terry looking forlornly at the boy in the speedster's arms.

Wally nodded, Artemis stopped playing with his black hair. They needed to get Dick to the Cave, to the League. Maybe seeing Hal would snap him out of whatever he was in.

 ** _Breakline_**

He had been set down in the back, strapped down. He wasn't right in the mind, Megan wanted to help him. How could Conner think that? It was Dick! She would never hurt her little brother, never!

The control panel felt right under her hands, the presence of the Gotham heroes did not. They were…uncommon, usually bothering with their own city. The only thing they had in common with the team was Dick. But even he was…gone.

Slade had done something to take away her brother, not only physically, mentally. She couldn't believe he could do that, she would make him regret it.

Kaldur did the honors. He put up a call screen. "Bio-ship to Watchtower." He waited, as Aquaman appeared.

"I wasn't expecting this."

"We have found Richard." The smile he had couldn't be contained, it broke out. "My king, Guppy is really here."

"That…is amazing news. I will contact the rest of the League at once. Is he well?"

Kaldur hesitated. "We did him no harm, but Slade has."

"As well as he can be then." Kal nodded. "I am excited to see him." Both nodded a farewell, call ending. Allowing Kaldur to let out a loud shout of joy.

"Why are you so happy? There's something wrong with him?" Conner growled.

"But he is with us again. We may help him."

"He's right." Red Robin shrugged. "What would we expect, but now—we can do something about it. One step closer to fully saving him."

It was quiet, Wally staring at his little brother. Bucky was home.

 **AN) What comes next? He's been freed! This is going to be a bumpy ride, this a lot of drama. Bart's going to meet his idol, Hal's going to have to deal, Dick's going to be very confused and everyone might need therapy after hosting a rather sarcastic assassin.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN) I'm so sorry for radio silence! Basketball is finally over, so I actually have time to DO things and it's so weird. I've watched a lot of Netflix though, Parks and Rec is amazing! Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to someone very special. They're going through a rough time now, and I promised an update. I want you all to know that you're amazing, beautiful, valid, strong, special and I couldn't be where I am today without you.**

There was a soft beeping from his left. Richard groaned softly, his head feeling like it had been filled with concrete. His hand twitched slightly, limbs stretching. He was horizontal, a thin sheet covering him. Richard was able to move, not tied down. He carefully opened his eyes, prepared for the onset of insane onset of bright light. He blinked, sitting up carefully.

"Oh my gosh." A tiny voice broke the silence, Richard was surprised at the…joy it had. He turned to his left. Blinking in surprise at the skinny auburn haired kid sitting in a chair beside his bed.

His first thought was to attack, he had been kidnapped by his enemies and he needed to get away. But the kid's jaw was slightly slacked, stretched into a tiny smile. The best course of action was to play along, act friendly but confused and find out where he exactly was.

"Can I help you?" He asked. The kid looked surprised.

"I didn't know you were British."

"Lived there for a few years."

"Cool! You're so cool…I-I mean I'm Bart." Richard nodded slightly, confused at how flustered Bart was. Bart's face froze for a second, he groaned and slammed is hands against his face. "Darn it! I wasn't supposed to tell you that! Nightwing's gonna _kill_ me."

"Nightwing? The vigilante?"

"Yes, don't tell him I told you. Please, sir."

Richard raised an eyebrow. _"Sir? Really? Kid's bonkers."_

"Alright, alright. I won't say anything." Headache, he ran a hand across his forehead. "Look, where am I?

"Some place safe, I promise."

Did he think he needed rescued? He was an assassin, his master was one of the most men on Earth. He needed no rescue.

"Why are you here?"

"Well…Kid Flash and Artemis had to go to school, and the bats went back to their cave. I think Aqualad and Miss Martian are getting a room prepared for you. No one knows about Superboy. And to be honest I'm not going to ask him." Bart laughed slightly, fading off as Richard stared at him. He coughed, shifting slightly.

"So," Richard swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'll be leaving."

Bart jumped to his feet. "You can't leave!"

"Sorry kid, I have a mission to complete."

"Well…I won't let you leave." He crossed his arms, Bart's height reaching up to his chin.

"I love how you think you can stop me. It's actually quite adorable."

"Grayson please—"

"How the heaven do you know my name?"

Bart froze, looking up at him. "You're famous!"

Richard gritted his teeth, he had heard enough. He was leaving. He would swim back to Oldham if he had too. He stepped forward, Bart pushing against him.

"Get out of my way."

"No!"

Richard rolled his eyes, taking a step back—and kicking Bart in the face. The kid stumbled back, Richard pushing him to the ground as blood spurted from his nose.

He rammed against the door, sprinting through the hall. His weapons and comm were gone, so he would be using hand to hand while trying to blast his way out of here. Fantastic.

He skidded to a halt as he came across a living room. Five heads swivled to look at him. Four kids maybe his age and the super clone.

"Screw me." Richard groaned, turned on his heel and ran. A loud shout came from behind him and footsteps started chasing him. "Why me?" He sighed.

There. Air vent. His go-to hiding spot for hide-and-seek with Scott. Scrambled into the tunnel he let the grate drop, moving as quickly as he could on all fours. He was just the right size.

 ** _Breakline_**

Connor shouted for the other's to follow Dick, to catch him. They didn't know why, but instinctively did as they were told. He ran for the computer, bringing up the Watchtower and screaming out his message.

"Dick is up and running all over Mt. Justice!" Wonder Woman blinked on screen, surprised. "We need back up now!"

"We're coming." She barely got the words out before Connor ended the call. He turned, racing off in the direction Dick had run. He changed courses slightly, remembering who had been with him last. Bart. Bart probably hadn't let Dick just walk out, so the speedster was probably hurt in some way. Or tied up.

He threw the medical room's door open, scanning for Bart. There he was, laying on the ground with blood covering his chest.

"Hey," Connor dropped to a knee beside him, noticing the blood was coming from his nose, "Bart are you okay?" He helped him sit up, Bart tenderly touching his nose and wincing.

"I just got kicked by my idol." He sounded stuffy. A small smile covered his face. "I feel great!"

"Come on. We got to find him." Connor pulled him to his feet.

"He's in the vents." Bart shrugged at Connor's look. "Dick Grayson is famous for hiding in the vents."

Connor nodded, taking off again. Dick was probably panicking, not sure where he was. It hurt, that he didn't remember the Cave, or that they loved him. He didn't remember that he, Connor, cared so much about him. Dick attacked him, he had tried to run away from them. Dickie had _cried_ , he had thrashed around and cried. As he had when he was little and had nightmares, but he was awake, and with _them._ Connor was scared, he was scared that they had lost Dick forever. He didn't want to lose his little brother.

"What is going on?" Kaldur called out, Megan flying along next to him.

"Dick's loose! Check the vents." Connor grunted, running towards a grate.

Kaldur followed suit, both freezing as they heard a rumbling. Looking up, a thin body fell on top of them. All three boys screamed, Dick trying to jump up and get away, but Kaldur grabbed his legs and Connor wrapped his arms around his waist. Megan threw herself on top of him, pinning him down. It was a strange pile of body limbs, not very dignified at all. Dick was slippery, he thrashed around, but Connor's hold and weight kept him down.

Wrestling on the ground Dick kicked them both in the face, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you, you barbaric fools!"

 ** _Breakline_**

Dinah looked at the boy from the other side of the glass. He was still in his uniform, a sight that horrified everyone. He had been kicking and screaming the whole way time. They had to lock him in the interrogation room, for his own good.

The older members of the team were there, as was most of the League and the Batboys. They couldn't reach Hal. He wasn't answering his comm. They had tried his cell and home phone but no response. John Steward and Kyle Rayner didn't know where he was, and he didn't answer his ring when they called.

Dick glared through the window, not seeing them but knowing they were there. J'onn was with him, trying to get through mentally. Dinah jumped as Dick began laughing.

"Can't get through? You won't win this time." He snarled, evil mirth glowing in his eyes. J'onn stood.

"I hope Richard, that in time you will be able to see your enemy."

"Easy when it's right in front of you."

They shifted, as J'onn joined them. "He is unreachable. He pushes harder and harder with ever attempt."

"Maybe I could try?" Megan offered.

"No." Connor grunted. "If your uncle can't do it without hurting him, you can't either." Megan tensed, glaring right back at him.

She sighed, "I'll try." She crossed in front of J'onn, gently pressing the code to unlock the door. "Maybe I can speak with him."

She closed the door softly, turning to face the teenager staring at her. He was so big, compared to the last time she had seen him. His face was fuller, he had filled out a bit with muscle. His eyes were hard, angrily looking at hers. But he didn't look cold, no—the gentle little eight-year-old she knew was still there. But he was locked deep inside.

"Hello Richard." She smiled softly. He nodded.

"Black Canary."

"How're you feeling?" He shrugged, Dinah brushing hair behind her ears. "Would you mind doing an exercise for me?" He looked at her, indifferent. "I'm going to say a word, and you say the first thing that comes to mind. Alright?"

"Why not?"

She paused for a moment, trying to find the right word. Start with something simple.

"Cooking?"

"Chore."

"Job?"

"Contract."

"Perfection?"

"Expectation."

Dinah wasn't liking these answers. She wanted him to remember who he had been before.

"Running?"

"Training."

"Friend?"

"Neighbor." She couldn't help but notice the soft smile on his face.

"Leader?"

"Master." Dinah cringed slightly, his voice so final. Another word, something he enjoyed.

"Music?"

"Privilege."

"Captain?" He paused, Dinah knowing what he wanted to say. "Richard, what do you think when I say captain?"

"…America." He smiled again, eyes dancing with temporary light. She laughed, happy to know he still thought of comics. That part wasn't gone.

"Winter?"

"Soldier."

"Assassin?" She expected the Black Widow answer, but with a smug look he provided the opposite.

"Me."

"Richard…that really isn't you."

"Master wishes I be his assassin, I must obey." He spoke smoothly, he believed what he said. Truly believed it, he wasn't reciting lines.

"You can't really mean that."

"How hard is it for you people to understand?" She raised her eyebrows as his accent changed. "I'm not your…your nephew or brother or friend or anything of the like! I need nothing you offer! I don't need you snooping in my mind, trying to change things!" He was shouting, quaking in anger. "I know what you did," Dick hissed, "Master doesn't lie as you do. You won't turn me against my master again!"

"Dick, we have never lied to you."

"You just did." He spat. "You brainwashed me to make me your puppet."

"That's what Slade did to you." She was begging.

"And you go about speaking falsehoods of my master!" He was red in the face, screaming at the top of his lungs. "You are liars and betrayers! I thought you cared but you didn't!"

"We care about you," She slipped from her chair, kneeling before him, cautiously stoking his cheek. Trying to get him to calm down, "we care very much."

He tensed at her touch, Dinah pausing slightly. "Get away from me." Dick's voice was low and bitter. "Don't touch me, woman!" He spat. Dinah pulled back, nodding slightly.

"You'll see little one, we can be trusted." She stood, her little bird seething.

"I'll never trust you! Never! I'll die before I care for you!" They hurt more than gunshots. Dinah froze, hands ready to unlock the door.

"And you'll see, we care so much we'd die for you even now."

"Then you're a fool."

"Maybe."

She leaned against the door, Diana placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You did everything you could, sister."

"It wasn't enough." She sighed, standing straight.

"He's only been here a day, it will take time."

Barry shook his head. "You heard him Di, he doesn't trust us at all."

"He doesn't remember us." Kaldur shook his head. "I'm certain he will come around." Connor scoffed. "I believe he will."

"It's been years."

"And we have our Guppy back. Do you not believe in him?" They faced each other, Connor looking ready for a fight. Aquaman placed a hand on his protégé's shoulder.

"We can find our Guppy again."

"He doesn't trust us!" Barry shouted again. "I'm sorry guys, but if he won't talk to Dinah and J'onn can't get through what can we do?"

"Hal—"

"Last time they met Dick stabbed him twice, broke his leg and stole his ring. I don't think he likes him."

"I think I know someone who can help." Red Robin raised his hand slightly, slowly turning from them and activating his earpiece. "Titans, I think I have a new mission."

 **AN) So, I hope you like! I turned in my script today, I have one more draft after this so it's almost over! I hope to update soon, but musical only was ten rehearsals left. I hope you all have a fantastic week and I'll see you next time dearies!**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN) *Awkwardly sliding onstage* H-Hey fanfam! Sorry, but I've lost my motivation. My anxiety is getting worse, and so I'm always tired so I just go home and watch TV or nap. So you could say I've been running around in** ** _Gotham_** **with Fish Mooney, Bruce, Selina and Alfred? Schools almost out! Three more weeks! I've also got the medicine I wanted! Accutane? It's for acne and it's really serious stuff. So far it's working! There are side effects though, dry skin, chapped lips, suicidal thoughts? That last one's scary. But I've never really had those, much. But please pray. I don't plan on that, because I have to finish this story for you amazing people, as well as Hamilband and Arrow is the Minus Sign, and actually watch** ** _Arrow_** **and** ** _Flash_** **, and tell more great stories to you! Well, do you have your ticket for a story ride! You do? Great? Hop in, buckle up, and keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times because here we go!**

Richard growled, twisting against the straps that held him to the chair. He wanted to get the heck out of there. Master was going to kill him for getting caught in the first place. Drugged? Really? Usually he was the one behind the needle. The fact that he had a chance to escape and had botched it was killing him. He could be long gone if he hadn't run into those stupid heroes in their living room he would've been fine. Or if he had been able to get away from the Martian, clone and Atlantian.

His eyes perked up at the scrapping sound. A Bat. Wonderful

"Hello, Richard." Richard sneered, Batman drawing closer.

"Batman." He nodded, it had been a long time since he had come face to face with one of the Bats. Even longer since he had heard anything from Gotham, last piece of news he bothered to care about was the death of one of Bruce Wayne's sons. He couldn't remember which one, and didn't really care to think about it. There was too much death already in his life to worry about some rich kid who was drunk coming home from a party. "What are you doing?" Richard snapped, drawing his hand away the best he could with the restraints.

"Moving you. Interrogations over."

"Finally come to your senses and realizing me?" He smirked. "About bloody time."

"No, Richard." Batman almost sounded annoyed, good. He liked to annoy people. Certain people that is. "We're moving you to a holding cell."

"What, like a criminal?"

The man paused, latching the cuff onto Richard's now free wrists. "To be fair, as of now you are."

"I was just doing my job."

"Killing's not a job, Richard. It's a crime."

"Those people deserved it!" He shouted, trying to stay seated as Batman pulled him to his feet.

"Terry McGinnis?" The Bat snarled, angrier than normal.

Richard paused, trying to think if he could remember anything bad about McGinnis or the company he represented. Wayne Enterprises had an unusually clean slate these past few years. _"Some_ of those people didn't then. But _most_ of them did."

"No one deserves to die." Richard scoffed at his words, dragging his feet as Batman moved him out to the hall to wherever they were going to hold him.

"Whatever." Goody-two-shoes wouldn't understand it, not that the Bats really were, but Batman was so set in his morals that he refused to see an easier, better option.

While the Bats and League would say that killing was wrong, went against the laws and stuff, it actually was the most practical way. By killing, the problem was solved permanently. No villain breaking out of jail to wreak havoc again. The people Dick would go after probably wouldn't even go to jail. He was killing yes, but he wasn't about to kill innocent civilians. He killed those who deserved it and he saved the people the bad guys would kill. Sometimes killing was the best option, it was a truth he was learned. A truth his master had shown him.

It had been quiet for a few minutes, the Bat's grip had lessened on his arm. Time for the plan. Richard brought his legs up quickly, hitting the detective squarely in the chest, catching him off guard. He sprung out, bouncing off the wall and twisting his arms free of the cuffs. At least one of them. As Batman regained Richard took off sprinting, heading God only knew where.

"Richard!" He heard his name being called from behind him.

"So long chump!" He cackled, debating whether leaving his cuff one was a good idea. He could use it as a club and beat people down. Well the non-invincible ones at least.

He cursed under his breath, lights flashing red. Batman must've triggered some sort of alarm so people would be out to get him. What happened to a fair hunt? He could already hear voices.

"Stop!" He skidded, the junior squad running in front of him. Three guys he'd never seen before, one blonde chick, and the fanboy—Bart, he thought—from before. It was Bart who had yelled. "Stop running and let us help you!"

He whipped around to flee the way he came. He could probably take them, but he wasn't sure what powers, if any, that they had, nor did he know their skills. It wasn't really a smart idea to fight people who outnumbered you, and he wanted to keep his chance of escape as long as he could thank you very much.

And the _other_ way was blocked too by the senior squad. Could these people stop messing with his escape attempts? He was trapped, this called for a hostage situation. Without thinking he lashed out and grabbed the skinniest looking kid there was and held his neck at a funny angle.

It seemed like time froze around him. There were faces which held equal parts horror, panic and anger.

"Nobody move or I snap his neck!"

 ** _Breakline_**

Hal smiled into the review mirror, looking at his daughter's excited face. She was bouncing around, contentedly watching the Disney movie they had placed in the player for her.

Hal had taken the day off. So had Carol, but he had also left everything behind. His phone, his League comm link, ad his ring.

 _"I think the world will be okay without me for a day." He smiled, Christi jumping happily. "Besides," he grinned sheepishly at Carol, "I need to spend some time with my family."_

He seemed to be out of the doghouse. Hal really meant it, he loved Dick a lot, but…the probability of Dick coming back was very low. Not that he was giving up hope, but he didn't want to damage the relationships he had with others in his search.

"How much longer to Disneyland?" Christi asked.

"It's going to be a little ways honey." Carol smiled at her. "We're going to stay overnight so we have all of tomorrow."

"You excited princess?"

"Yes!" She cheered. "This is the best birthday ever!"

Hal laughed. A couple days off would be great, besides…what could happen in two days?

 **Breakline**

Richard wasn't moving. The kid squirmed slightly in his arms, not trying to break free exactly but he obviously wasn't too thrilled about the situation.

"Dick, stop!" Bart was drawing closer, he looked desperate, eyes wide in panic. "We can't help you if you threaten to kill us."

"Stay away." He hissed tightening his grip. The kid squirming again.

"Sis…" It came out like a gasp, and Richard felt the tickle in his mind again.

"Knock me out and he goes down with me."

The Martian looked guilty and the tickle went away. They were at a standstill now. No one wanted to step up, for fear of the kid dying, and Richard didn't really want to kill him. Besides, if he killed the kid the heroes would pounce and be even more ticked. Killing was his last resort. But the heroes didn't know that, they thought he was a heartless assassin, but truth be told he had a heart only not a lot of people tried to look for it.

What was he going to do with the kid? Drag him along to freedom? Richard wasn't sure. He couldn't exactly let the kid go, cause the heroes would be right on his tail, but he couldn't exactly take him to a safe house. _This_ was why Master said no hostages. Richard cursed mentally, now he really was stuck.

There was a tension on his arm, one that hurt. He yelped, trying to pull away from it. The kid had bit him!

"You bit me!" The kid was free, and the Martian was holding him. "You bloody bit me!"

"You were gonna kill me!" The boy shouted back, Richard blinking. For the first time he noticed his skin was green.

 _"These people are bonkers."_ Richard stared for a second longer than he was supposed to, and received a blow to the knee.

"Hail Hydra!" He shouted, swinging wildly at whoever had kicked him. His fist connected sloppily with a jaw, the jaw's owner grunting and head butting him. Richard swore he felt horns of some sort. It seemed all fury was unleashed there. More people joining the fray. Voices shouting for it all to be over.

"Guys, knock it off! Grayson!"

"That's enough, La'gaan!"

Richard despised dishonorable fights. Street fighting wasn't his thing. He was used to planning attacks, formal strikes and a discipline behind every action. That's what he was faced with during training and how he responded on mission. He normally didn't face disciplined fighters, but he almost always had a jump on them and therefore he dictated he dance. Which is why when faced with dirty fighting, or in this case a beat down, he thrashed around like a caged animal.

He came face to face with angry eyes, freaking red eyes! This face too was strangely green, and definitely had horn like thingies.

"Sod off, bloke." He snarled, wiping the liquid off his upper lip. Huh, it was blood, guess he had a bloody nose.

The green dude snarled, drawing back a fist to punch him. Things had calmed down, Richard moving to block the blow. But it didn't come, Richard blinked, Bart was doubled over clutching at his face.

"I'm sorry." Greenie sounded really concerned.

"Ow!" He shouted. "I think it's broken!"

Richard froze, staring at Bart with blood running down his face, Greenie panicking considerably.

"You have super speed you could've moved!"

"I don't have super thinking smart butt!" Bart countered, tipping his head back to stop the blood.

"Don't." Richard hadn't expected the word to come out. Bart looked toward him, something akin to happiness in his eyes. Greenie glaring. "You'll gag on the blood." He moved the kid's head forward slightly. "Pinch your nose that should stop it."

Bart smiled, his friend hissing "Assassin."

Richard all but rolled his eyes. That seemed to be the fall back insult for these guys. A firm hand was latched around his arm, the clone scowling as he guided Richard away.

"Why do you have to make things difficult for yourself?" He all but sighed, the hairs on Richard's neck standing up.

 _"Why do you have to make things difficult, boy?"_

 _"I killed him, didn't I?"_

 _"Yes, you killed him. But correctly? No."_

"Hobby?" He shrugged, trying to mask the obvious painful flashback. But he figure the clone had heard his heart rate increase.

 ** _Breakline_**

The holding cell wasn't too bad, he had definitely seen worse. One time Master was so ticked at him he locked Richard in the lair overnight. For a few days. Richard was almost certain that his master had forgotten about him, but the man was too mad for that.

It was a solid gray, so not a white room thank goodness, but not exactly chipper either. There was a cot, with folded bedding resting on it.

"Wow a pillow." He said, grabbing the pillow and fluffing it. "I don't always get pillows, you know." He threw over his shoulder to the Leaguer he knew entered the room. Who it was he didn't know. "Oh, Canary." He wasn't her biggest fan, psychological questions were his least favorite in the world. And she had a habit of asking them. "Another interrogation?"

"No, I just have one question." She paused, as if waiting for him to protest. He just planned to not answer if he didn't want to. "Why did you help Impulse?"

"Bart?" She nodded. Richard didn't know exactly why himself. "Well, I felt kind of bad." Canary looked surprised, Richard sneered. "What? Don't think assassins can have manners? The kid did take a hit for me. I'm not too used to that, to be honest. You don't exactly stop your enemy from getting beat up. Not even Master takes a hit for me. If I get hit it's my fault. When he took one for me, I at least owed him some advice."

Canary nodded, seeming like she was trying to digest what he had said. "That makes sense. Richard, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

She allowed the door to open, Richard debating making a break for it, but the woman in the door stopped him.

She was tall, a long lavender cloak hiding her face and body. When the hood dropped a pale gray skin was exposed, along with a reddish jewel in the center of her forehead. Her hair was purple as well, Richard noticing the theme, and rather short. Her eyes, purple, obviously, were very hard to read. Her emotions seemed to be hidden well. That was no fun, Richard liked to read new people.

"This is Raven." Canary explained. "She and her team are independent from the League, if you don't feel you can trust anyone to tell you the truth, trust them."

Richard looked the girl over again, trying to really read _her._ While Black Canary didn't seem to be lying, he couldn't exactly trust her. Raven, as hard as she was to read, didn't seem to be a liar either.

 **AN) This was pretty hard to write with my stuffy nose, but I got it done! Teen Titans yay! I hope you enjoyed. Please depart the ride in an orderly fashion, leave a comment down below and wait for another story-ride to update or this story ride to expand! Thank you, and have a fantastic day at Cedar Point: America's rocking' rollercoaster! (I've been there so often I have it memorized!) Have a great day fanfam!**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN) Hey! I hope you guys are doing awesome! I've been super busy, so sorry for the crazy delay. I had my mission's trip to LA two weeks ago and last week I was in Cleveland for the U2 concert! Also, shout out the guy who noticed I was having a panic attack when I lost my dad and the crowd and got everyone to move Fezzik style. You literally save my life man, you rock. I'm glad I got to update today, and you all need to thank Xnia Red for this. I've been having some mental health issues, but I've been doing better, and Xnia Red's review kind of confirmed for me that I'm doing okay. Just reading their little review made me so stinking happy. Oh yeah, I got my permit! Almost able to drive! I also got first place in my 4-H writing project, so that was a huge confidence booster. You guys didn't come here for this…on with the show!**

She seemed to be trying to size him up, Richard moving away from her. She was an unknown, he had never read a file on her or seen her before. The last unknown he had encountered had tried to beat him to a pulp, so Raven wasn't winning his trust immediately. She seemed to be feel awkward, perhaps it was because she was in the same room as an assassin. Richard wasn't too fond of meeting competitors, mostly because they seemed to agitate Master greatly. He smirked to himself, she was probably fighting the urge to arrest him, but she didn't seem to be the type of hero to slap handcuffs on villains. Richard wanted to keep the uncomfortable air going for as long as he could, unsure how to though. Why the hero didn't just leave was beyond him, he had no wish to talk to her and she probably didn't want to stand there all night.

"Would it be too much trouble to ask you to leave?" She raised an eyebrow, her cape shifting to allow her arms to cross across her chest. "I prefer to sleep without people watching me."

"It's five in the afternoon." Great Scott, did this woman know how emotions worked? Even his master displayed some emotion, he would've figured someone who worked with the Flash would show a little more life. Batman worked with the Flash, so there must be a few exceptions.

Richard didn't believe for one second that this woman and her team were independent from the Justice League. They were probably just B-tier heroes that the media never covered. Like Constantine, only reason Richard could put a name to that face was the grudge they held. Constantine wanted a magical artifact, Master wanted to steal it for a client, and no one had decided to let Richard know that the man in the trench coat who looked like a drunkard had magical powers. The fight they had, though short lived, as intense. Richard learned some colorful words and Constantine got a broken jaw. He also got the artifact and boom, that's why Richard was locked in the lair for a week.

"Well excuse me for having a nocturnal lifestyle." He quipped, grabbing the folded sheet and letting it fall out of its sheet. "Would you mind holding these?" He picked up the pillow, tossing it lightly over his shoulder, the tan blanket soon following it. He didn't hear them hit the floor so Richard guessed she caught them.

This fitted sheet was nearly impossible, Will normally took care of chores and stuff, but Richard had made his own bed. He gave a small nod to his work, rubbing his head gently. It ached a little, probably from getting jumped, probably feel better after he napped. Scott often took to referring to Richard as a cat since he would randomly pass out throughout the day, he had to agree. He also liked it when people would run their hands through his hair, it felt nice. It was basically how Master showed affection. Richard turned, slamming his chest into a floating black table.

"Bloody…what is that?"

"It's a construct." She explained, Richard hesitantly grabbing the blanket off of it. "Part of my powers."

"Let me guess, dark magic?"

"How could you tell?" He thought he heard a laugh in her voice, but wasn't positive.

"For one, it's dark and you have to have some sort of powers. Two, you're levitating. And three I've ran into magic users before." Richard whipped the blanket through the air, letting it fall gently onto his cot. It was a tad over dramatic, but he liked to watch it fall. It rarely fell smoothly for him though so he had to get rid of the bumps.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" Raven had moved closer, holding his pillow towards him. "I'm a telepath, I can work with human emotions. I can sense how you feel. I may not feel it myself, but I'll be able to understand what you're going through."

"Miss, I don't want you crawling around in my brain." He sighed, letting the pillow drop. "I don't need your help, seeing as my only problem is that I'm here—"he gestured to the drab room, wishing it would melt into his blue walls and loft bed with the desk underneath—"instead of reporting in from a mission."

"You were going to kill someone."

"I didn't want to, honest."

"Then someone was making you?" Richard could tell she was an excellent speaker, her words were guarded carefully.

"It was a job." He was tired of debating this, he was met with the same argument from different mouths, and he didn't know how to get it through their thick skulls that they were wrong.

She nodded. Richard blinking as Raven didn't challenge him anymore. "Ok." He hadn't been expecting that. "Well, at least we talked." She tricked him! His brow furrowed, a small smile on her usually stoic face. "Richard, I promise," she reached out, hands gently grabbing his arm. He pulled away, not trusting her touch yet, he probably never would. He met her eyes, surprised as he could see the honesty in them. That was very hard to fake, he guessed the only emotions she showed were real. "I am not trying to brainwash you. I'm just trying to help you see things for yourself and make your own decisions."

He nodded. So, he could probably trust her. She might be like Jason. Jason was the only other person who he had seen that look on.

"Thank you. I am going to get some rest."

"I'll come back soon and see if you need anything."

"If you have apples they're always welcome." She nodded, letting his cell door close behind her.

Richard sank to his bed, running his hands across his face. The throbbing was steadily getting worse, he feared what would happen eventually. Why hadn't he said anything? He probably could've gotten some Advil or something. No, that would've been admitting weakness. Master hated whenever Richard would complain about his head hurting. Apparently it wasn't that bad, it wasn't that big of a deal, it wasn't worth bother his master about. Most things that pertained to Richard seemed to not be worth bothering his master about. Richard figured Master was disappointed in him not growing as much. There always seemed to be _something_ that wasn't good enough. His attitude, his humility, his obedience, his performance on the job, heck—even how he acted as a civilian disappointed Master. Richard didn't want to show emotion around the man. He knew it was bad to cry, smile or complain because he was a weapon. It wasn't his place, he wasn't truly human. He was Master's prized weapon.

He sighed, swinging his legs up. His head didn't hurt that bad, so he would ignore it. It's what Master would tell him to do. Ignore being sad, ignore feeling like laughing, ignore everything. Richard wished he could, he wished he could get rid of everything that made his master disappointed in him, but he couldn't. It just wasn't him to not be happy. Especially when he had things to be happy about, his art, his friend, being able to go outside, not getting hit too hard. He liked to be happy, Richard really liked the feeling.

He could be better when he got back, right now he would have to survive. Richard curled tightly, he slept defensively. He kept his back to the wall, his knees pressed against his stomach, one hand resting on the back of his neck, his chin tilted down while his spare hand shielded his face. He guessed he had developed this habit when he was little, since Master had attacked him at random to build his pain tolerance.

His head was uncomfortable, but it would be better once he slept. Sleep made everything better. Richard looked around as the lights began to dim until they were at a low glow. Raven must've made that happen. Whatever.

 ** _Breakline_**

It was hot, it was really hot. Richard groaned, curling tighter and fighting to keep his eyes closed. It felt like he was melting, he batted the blanket off, wiping the beads of sweat that dripped off of his face away. His clothes were soaked, Richard gulped in air. His hands were shaking, twitching as he tried to get sweat out of his eyes.

He needed water, maybe Raven could hear him if he shouted through the door? He sat up, and the world turned red. The fire lit inside of him, hands grasping at his head. It felt like Master was taking his whip to it, hot strike breaking apart his brain. He put pressure on his feet, crying out as he went down. He was shaking, he couldn't walk. Everything hurt, the fire was going to kill him. He screamed, tearing at his head, trying to stop it.

His own breathing hurt his ears, his heartbeat was too loud. He wanted to die, Richard wanted to snap his own neck as he had done to so many others. He felt something cool on his cheeks, letting the tears fall to soothe the heat. He didn't care that he was crying, it felt good.

There was thunder coming towards him, he groaned, trying to block everything from his ears. He heard his name, saw confused blurry faces towering over him. He whimpered, trying to tell his need, but his mind wouldn't let him.

"My…pills…I-I need them…pills…please." It sounded like he shouted them, Richard wincing as he spoke.

Something was cold, he felt something cold. A hand on his cheek. He didn't care enough to shy away, it felt good anyway. He leaned into it, murmuring his message. The fire was dying, how was it dying? He hadn't taken his pills, he needed his pills. He looked to the source, meeting pained purple eyes.

"W-what?" He was able to gurgle out, shaking.

"It's alright." Raven's voice found his ears. "I'm just taking some of the pain, you're okay."

"No…n-no…not okay…" He didn't want her to feel this. This was Hell. That's how Will said he looked during his withdraws. "…pills…need pills…"

The fire was dull, he still shook, his body twitching against his will. A second voice echoed in his ears. A second pair of hands grabbed his arm.

"It's okay, Dick." Metal was in his arm, he hissed as the needle found his arm. "It's just a sedative, we're going to help you."

"No…pills…g-give me…need…" It was going dark, he still ached but he felt numb. "Don't remember…can't…won't…don't w-want…" He needed the pills, he didn't want to remember how they brainwashed him. Richard didn't want to remember how he was going to betray his master.

"It's okay, it's okay." A voice soothed, arms circling him. He was almost gone, the ache was still there.

"Kill me…please…j-just kill me…" The words bubbled out of his mouth, his head swinging as it all went black.

 ** _Breakline_**

The boy lay on the examination table. Several worried faces in the room. Young Justice had been sent back to the Cave to regroup so the extremely vocal teens weren't freaking out. That was the only good part of the situation. Red Robin was briefing his team in the hall, so the adults were the only ones present.

Batman was examining the bloodwork results, Barry looking over his shoulder.

"I've seen that before." The speedster said, Bruce glancing at him. "It can be used to erase memories. Kinda helpful for villains to get henchmen out of civilians."

"Slade made him forget us." Clark shook his head. "He takes the pills and it blocks his memory of what happened with us?"

"Slade's modified it to block the memories he wants to." Bruce was typing, pictures of pills flying across the screen. It froze on what Richard had been taking. "Dick's grown addicted. We'll have to give him smaller doses."

"I'm concerned about the drugs." Ollie raised his hand. "Is that really the best idea?"

"Having him go cold turkey would be more harmful." Dinah glanced at the boy, sweat still glistening on his face. "I'm more worried about him wanting to die."

"With the way he was screaming I'd want to too." Barry sighed. "I might be able to find a weaker drug at the lab, let him get the chemicals but not have the memory wiping."

"That's the plan then."

"Man I hope this works," Ollie sighed, "for our sake and his."

 **AN) I would like to thank you all so much! I hope you enjoy! Please, leave a comment. I'm always in search of ideas to make your story better. I love you all bunches, you are valid, important, intelligent and strong. Never forget that. Bye FanFam!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN) Hey…so um, I lied. I said I was doing better? Not really. I feel worthless half the time. I lost a friend and I feel like I'm not good enough to be around, like I don't deserve to be cared about. I feel lost and nervous a lot. I'm getting help, it comes and goes I guess. Like any other mood. I'm sorry I lied to you all. All of you, every single one, make me happy. Because you seem to enjoy my work. I'm so thankful for every one of you. Recently I'm doing ok. I saw Spider-Man Homecoming! Excellent movie, so cute! I hope you guys enjoy!**

It hurt, Richard could still feel his skin crawling. There wasn't a fire anymore, but the embers weren't completely dead either. He tried to move, panicking as his limbs didn't want to respond. The sedative hadn't worn off yet. He was awake, but his body was still numb.

The League didn't understand, they couldn't just sedate him and it would all be over. No, he needed his pills. He wanted his pills. They let him forget, they let him focus on his master's orders. Without them he was…insane. He could remember Master telling him so.

It was the strangest feeling, being trapped in your own head. He couldn't move, but he could think. He was alone with his thoughts and memories. There was a light, like of movie beginning to play at the cinema. What in the? He tried to bring the black back, not really wanting to watch a movie of his memories. He prayed to the God Scott believed in it wasn't the memories of the League. It couldn't be…not yet.

 _It was home, Richard gasping sharply. He sat up, gazing at the sun dusted hallway. He could feel his legs…bloody. What was going on? He raised his arms, inspecting his hands. How was he here? The League had him…he wasn't in Oldham…he was probably in America! But he was there…he was standing in the kitchen. Richard whipped around, tensing as the stairs creaked behind him. His mouth almost hit the floor, blinking rapidly as he saw…himself?_

 _The kid was tiny, maybe around eight or nine. Richard ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. This was beyond crazy…this was bloody mental! The little kid was racing down the stairs, running for his dear life. If this was the memory Richard thought it was he was going to cry._

 _It sounded like an adult was coming down from upstairs, Richard watching as the child whipped around in panic—looking for somewhere to hide or run to. He bolted for the door, Richard knowing he wouldn't get far. The door was locked, but the kid didn't know that. The boy was yanking on the doorknob, Richard moving towards him, wanting to stop what had happened to Richard himself years ago._

 _This was a bad day. Reason being, Will wasn't home. If he had been there it would have ended better._

 _He gulped audibly, pressing himself against the cupboards, hands gripping the countertop tightly. Master stalked past him, the little kid trying to open the door even more frantically was he noticed the man. Master pulled the kid away from the door, the boy trembling as he was whirled around to face him._

 _"You ran." Richard's younger self sputtered, trying to form a coherent excuse that would keep him from getting beat. "You do understand that you disobeyed me, Apprentice?"_

 _Master revoked his name on multiple occasions. Giving Richard a title rather than a name. It happened when his master was angry with him and trying to intimidate him mostly. Richard recognized it as a power play, trying to remind him who played what role._

 _"I don't…I don't like needles!" The kid defended, almost tearing up. Richard really didn't like needles, they creeped the heck out of him._

 _Master must've been in a bad mood that day. Richard had been avoiding him for that reason. His master wasn't abusive…no…anytime he hit Richard outside of training Richard had earned. But adding alcohol into the mix made it even more dangerous. Master was always a tad more irritable after he had been drinking._

 _The kid was two inches off the floor in a matter of seconds, struggling to breathe as his master held him by his throat. His small hands grasping at the large ones holding him, trying to pry them off. He was wiggling like a fish, wanting to breathe._

 _"I don't care if you hate them." Richard flinching at the voice. It wasn't even him, it was past him—if that made sense—who was in trouble, but Richard was terrified. "You listen to me when I give you an order." The kid nodded, gasping softly. "You're insane." The words still hurt him, Richard wincing as the child fell to the ground. The kid whimpered which resulted in Master getting angrier. It resulted in a heavy kick sending the kid sliding across the floor. Richard side stepped the flying child, biting his lip as the boy curled into a ball. He was scared, they both were. "Your mind is completely ruined." He watched the kid's eyes widened, as he flinched away from the hands that pulled him off the ground. Richard could remember the stench of liquor on his breath. "Those shots are the only thing keeping you sane. Keeping you useful." The kid fell to his knees, the crunch sound as they popped startling both versions of the boy._

 _Richard moved closer to the kid, wanting to reach out and hug him. This day was awful. It was one of his least favorite memories._

 _"I am saving your pathetic brain." Master's hand snaked through his hair, snapping the boy's head up. Richard knew now, just as he had then, that his master was drunk. It made the man even more dangerous, he wouldn't be thinking clearly. Master shook the kid's head. "I am saving you. Say it. Say it!" He shook the child, the young version of him whimpering._

 _Richard knew how his master worked, he knew that he deserved respect. Richard knew that his master was his master. But one thing he would never ever understand was why his master needed to hear this. Needed to hear him say things like that. Richard hated it, but he didn't have any space to argue. He was supposed to show respect, but this…this made him feel like garbage._

 _"Y-You're saving me-me, Master." The little kid was shaking, staring at the ground. Master flung him back, letting the boy topple to the ground. "Thank y-you._

 _Richard didn't want to follow them, as Master dragged the past version of Richard to the lair. He didn't want to hear his screams again. He couldn't watch himself in pain. Richard knew he deserved the beat down he got after he was drugged, but he couldn't watch a kid get whooped. He just…he wanted to protect kids._

 _Master was drunk that day, that's why he was so angry. He was using Richard as his punching bag, it wasn't really his master who had broken Will's 15 lash rule and given him 30. It hadn't really been his master who had threatened to throw him off the lift and made him beg for it not to happen. It hadn't really been his master who had smashed a bottle upside his head. His master wasn't like that. His master was good, his master was all he had. His master had apologized the next day, had given him a new set of drawing pencils and spending money to go out with Scott. That was his master…his master cared about him._

 _He wanted a different memory. If he was going to be stuck in his mind until the sedative wore off he might as well be watching happy memories. Or at least not as depressing ones. Maybe he could control it? Or at least influence what would happen, it was his mind after all._

 _Richard balled his fists, focusing on happy things, laughter, playing games with friends, feeling safe. He felt funny, wincing internally was he opened his eyes to see the bright cinema lights flash and go down. Guess he changed memory movies. The concept was fairly interesting, it would be entertaining if he wasn't drugged._

 _Richard was surprised it was as dark as it was…Scott's house was never dark. His heart sank down to his knees as he realized he was in a cave. Not the cozy three story house on Queensway Avenue, he was in a bloody cave. His heart decided to slip down to his toes as it dawned on him where he was…what memory it was. It was one of the fake memories from the League…his pills were really wearing off._

 _He was in a daze as he surveyed the scene. There was little him, sitting proudly on the kitchen table rather than a chair like the rest of the four people. He thought there were five…and there was the archer off to the side on her phone. Friendly old thing, wasn't she. The four, five including past Richard, were playing cards, each eying one another suspiciously._

 _The clone placed two cards on the pile in the middle, coolly declaring—"Two threes."_

 _The speedster slammed his hands on the table, startling and almost annoying everyone, he shrieked, "LIIIIIIIIAAAARRRRR!" Richard was startled by the outburst, and almost scared for past him who was scared of loud noises. Except past him was giggling at the silliness, Richard now suspecting it was all for show._

 _Wait a moment…Richard had played this game! At Scott's birthday party! They called it something else though, keeping their tones hushed so Mr. and Mrs. Daniels would hear them cursing. That was the most fun Richard had ever had with boys from the block, only time they didn't pin him as the anti-social boy on meds. Richard guessed 'Liar' was used due to little ears._

 _"Oh…you think I'm lying?" The clone smirked, the Atlantian, Martian, and the kid all looking on in anticipation._

 _"Yuh-huh!" The ginger nodded cornily, holding up the huge stack of cards he had gotten stuck with. Richard snickered through his panic, speedster seemed to call liar too often. "Cause I got all the threes!" He grinned, flipping the top two cards to reveal a seven and a four. "Boom!" He pushed the cards toward the groaning teen._

 _"Lying in front of Richard?" The leader teased, "What an awful example for our guppy." The past him laughed._

 _"Yeah Connor, thanks!"_

 _"Like you haven't lied." Connor huffed, gathering his cards as his girlfriend patted his arm._

 _"Oh I have," mouths dropped at this revelation, "but you all doubted that I did and didn't call it!"_

 _The little kid was laughing, "I'm callin' all yours now!"_

 _"You'll end up with many cards, Guppy."_

 _"Not as many as Wally's!"_

 _"Come here you little—"Wally grabbed the kid, pulling him onto his lap. The boy was giggling, screeching as the ginger tickled his stomach. "I gottcha gottcha gottcha!"_

 _"Augh, Wally! Lemme go!"_

 _Richard turned away, his stomach seeming to give way to a pit of nothing-ness. He wanted this. He wanted to feel safe and loved like the past him and seemed. He wanted to laugh and play games, he had longed for love was a little kid. And they used that. They took him at his worst and tried to poison him. They didn't care, they didn't play with him. They probably kept him locked in a white room and feed him fake memories to turn him. If they wanted him on their side why didn't they really show him love? Master hadn't been…but Master's harsh treatment was to make him strong._

 _Master said the League was evil, they wanted to control him, and they didn't care. They weren't as good was Master. They didn't deserve to have him, only Master did. But that memory, that moment…it felt so real. In his chest, there was a warm_ _glow. It felt…like it had happened. Why was this so confusing! Why did it feel real when Master said it was fake? Master was never wrong, but it was so real!_

 _This was why Master called him insane, it was why he wasn't good enough because the League did this to him. But it felt REAL!_

 _Richard blinked, stunned_ as he saw the room around him. He was the walls and computers that just screamed 'Justice League headquarters'. He was groggy, his chest feeling strange was he sat up. Sound was muffled, one of the reasons he probably didn't react as strongly to the people calling his name in surprise. He had to get out, he needed to get back to Master. He would let Master throw him off the lift if he would give him the meds. If Master would just take control again, it was all too confusing.

He batted weakly at the hands trying to get him to lay back down, his eyes frozen on the person the door had let in. Jason. It was Jason…it had to be. Red hair, muscle…this could be Jason five years later. He reached out, swinging his legs onto the floor. Trying to get to Jason, trying to get to someone safe. Jason understood, he had too! He called his name, the word coming out in a garbled mess. Jason's hands grabbed his arms, helping him stand.

"J-Jason…got to help me…please Jay…" He grabbed right back, staring at the concern in Jason's eyes.

"Dick?"

"Please…g-get me out…" His heart beat quickened as Jason let the hands grab him, as Jason let the League force him back down. "Jas-son? Jay?" He thrashed around, why was Jason letting them hurt him? Why was he letting them shove green pills down his throat? "Jay!" He choked, grabbing as the arms tried to keep them apart. He couldn't form the words he wanted. His fingers caught Jason's shirt, holding on for dear life.

Jason stared at him, a tear creeping down his face. Richard knew he matched. "Dick, we're going to help. The League will help."

A sad scream parted his lips. He didn't hear those words, Jason wasn't with them…he couldn't be. His hand fell from the shirt, he was too hurt to react to the straps being tightened over his body. He screamed, knowing he looked awful. Tears stormed his face, his eyes following the back of Jason. He screamed his name, begging the teen to save him. Snot was dripping down his face as he sobbed.

He was scared. Jason was with the League, Richard hiccupped his name. Begging the man to save him, 'don't let them hurt me'.

"P-Please! Jason! JASON!" He wailed, gagging on his own spit. "D-Don't leave m-m-me!"

He sounded pathetic, Master would be so disappointed in him.

 ** _Breakline_**

Roy slumped against the door. Hiding his tears. He could hear Dick's screams. He could hear him sobbing. Why his brother?

"Roy," he looked up, Tim speed walking down the hall, "what's going on?"

"He…Dick doesn't know Jason's dead."

 **AN) Well, that's all folks! I hope to update AitMS soon, as some have asked, but I'll have to see if I'm struck with an inspiration brick. Don't be too worried about me! I just wanted to let you know since you matter a lot to me. Cross Country practice and band camp start soon for me, as does a full family (aunts, uncles, cousins) vaca. I think I'll do okay once I'm with friends again! But still asking for prayer. I love ya'll bunches! Wow…I really need to figure out an outro…maybe like Thomas Sanders... well fanfam we'll see how this goes!**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN) Well…happy New Year? I've been gone for far too long, I'm really sorry. This school year has been hectic, but I've been managing. I've been getting help, my anxiety has been getting better. It's still there, but I'm learning how to deal with it, almost how to make it my tool. I'm so glad to be back, I've been busy with Cross Country, Fall Play, band and school. So, I hope all of you have been having an amazing year. I've just recently turned 16, so I get my license tomorrow! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

The aching in his head had died down. Richard groaned, tightening and untightening his muscles as the light flited through his lids. He was surprised to discover he wasn't strapped down. It was the bed he made, the room that Raven had left him in. The room that started this whole nightmare of withdrawal, drugging and…Jason.

Jason…he didn't even really know Jason, but Richard felt like they were brothers. He felt like Jason would protect him, like Jason would be his friend. Jason, Jason who gave him music, had betrayed him. Richard was shocked. Hadn't Jason removed him from the League, Richard could faintly remember being carried in Jason's arms. Richard squeezed his eyes shut, trying to picture it. Maybe if he could remember, he could convince Jason! Yes! The League had brainwashed Jason like they had brainwashed Richard, if he could remember what Jason had done for him…maybe he could make Jason remember and he would help Richard escape the League!

There were beautiful halls, marble with rich, dark wood lining the walls. Richard gasped, almost being able to smell the bacon cooking in the distance. There was light, glorious light. He felt as if he could touch it. The light looked so real, Richard reached out, almost catching it in his hands.

This. What was this place? Richard clenched his eye shut, focusing as hard as he could. He saw Jason's face, it was young. Thin, kind of pointy—nothing like the Jason he had seen only…hours, maybe, ago. That's what five years could do. His eyes, Richard stared at the image burned into his mind, there was something different about Jason's eyes. The eyes were a deep green, like the Christmas trees. Jason's eyes had been a lighter green that afternoon, like a leaf on a Maple tree. Such different shades, Richard tried to sort it out, he sensed the movement before a word was spoken.

Richard leapt up, hands clutched tightly. His head whipped around to the source, legs set in the sturdiest position. His eyes searched the room before him. His eyes settled on and old man, white hair-blading. A tray was held in his hands, a silver dome arching over the tray, hiding its contents from Richard's curious eyes. Around six foot, looked like he could put up a fight, but he was old and Richard was young, trained and desperate. He tensed, readying a fight-or-flight reaction.

"No need for that." Richard lowered his fists, the accent so familiar to his ear. "Get off the bed, you'll only rumple the covers."

Cautiously he obeyed, reminded of Will in many ways, but there were just as many differences. He kept his fists raised, the man all but rolling his eyes.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you again. I do believe you've grown a tad." The man talked as if Richard knew what was going on, which he obviously didn't. "Well go on, sit down."

The man pulled a table that had appeared in Richard's room during his unconsciousness, the tray balanced in his hand. Richard slowly lowered himself onto the edge of his bed, eyes following the man as he fixed the table between Richard and himself and a chair that had been produced along with the table. Richard drew in a breath, twirling his thumbs over one another.

"Who are you?" He was proud that he hadn't stuttered. The man eyed him, something akin to sadness on his face. Yay, more pity.

"Alfred Pennyworth." Richard nodded, repeating the name to remember it with the face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was informed that you hadn't had anything at tea time so I figured I would stop by."

Tea time was over, so it was at least past four. Richard nodded, watching quietly was Alfred seated himself, the tray resting between them. The cover was removed, Richard taking in the tea set. It was all silver, expensive. His hands itched to take something from it, maybe one of the small stirring spoons.

"I've brought a few bags," Alfred poured the steaming water into the two cups, "didn't know what you'd prefer. Earl, Green, and of course, Breakfast." Richard nodded, eyeing the Earl. His eyes swept the tray, grabbed by the muffins.

"No biscuits?" He didn't mean to sound rude or ungrateful, but they were a favorite of his.

Alfred gave the softest smile. "Afraid not," he slid the cup over to Richard, the boy dunking a tea bag in the water. "I prefer them as well, but I happen to make these this morning. I believe you'll like them."

Richard took a muffin, Alfred's words seeming to be rather cryptic, but he wasn't sure when he would get food again.

"Banana nut?" Alfred nodded, Richard grinning softly, banana nut was the best. Scott thought it was blueberry but he was wrong.

There was an awkward silence, Richard stirring his tea silently. He wished Alfred would just leave. Master very rarely took tea, so he was normally with the Scotts or Will, but he was often alone. Richard liked being alone, not in the company of strangers who stared at him like they knew him, their eyes piercing through him.

"So…five years' time, you've changed quite a bit."

"I guess." Richard shrugged, he didn't really think much had changed. "I've only grown about four inches." He had wanted to dye his hair blond, but Master had firmly put his foot down.

"Richard, you must forgive me…but it's been so long. And I am so, so sorry." Richard gulped down some of his tea, trying his best to keep his mouth full so he wouldn't have to respond to anything. "I was, we were, heartbroken when you were taken." Richard slowly lowered his cup to the table, trying hard not to blow up at the old man.

"There was nothing bad." He spoke tersely, his accent beginning to slip into his words. "I returned to where I belonged, you must understand that."

Alfred shook his head, "you don't belong to that man, Dickie." The name seemed so strange to him. It had been Richard, Apprentice, boy, mate or even Richard, but such an affectionate pet name hadn't been used on him in years. "You only belong to yourself."

"You clearly don't understand the concept of employment." He mumbled into his tea. His free hand slowly advancing toward the stirring spoon he had placed on the table. This tea proved annoying, so he deserved to steal something to lift his spirits.

"I don't believe that your relationship is one of employment, has there been any formal contract?"

"You don't normally write down a contract for assassination." He scoffed, eyes flickering between the spoon and the man. His fingers inched over the table, pushing the spoon closer to the edge.

"I know how easy it may seem to kill." Alfred's voice was low, his cup still in his hands. "But it can't be pleasant."

"It's not." Richard admitted, he really didn't like it. "It works though. By killing the bad guys, they can't hurt anyone else…because they're dead."

"That's a very interesting point of view." Alfred nodded, taking a sip of his tea. "You're far too young to be worrying about—"

"Killing?" Richard set his cup down. "I'm around the same age as those other heroes, did you tell them they're too young?"

Alfred sighed, setting his cup down as well. "Every time one of those children showed up I would try, but they're so committed to saving the world they wouldn't listen. I found it far easier to be there, ready to help them when they're injured, to cover for them. They may be young, but they have my full support, and the support of each other." The man leaned forward, Richard shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Do you have that support? Do you have people who will talk to you when you're afraid?"

Not really…he had Scott, but he couldn't share everything with Scott. Will liked him, he could talk to Will, but how many times had Richard's words gone straight from Will to Master? "Yes, yes I do."

Alfred nodded, drinking a moment before he smiled at Richard. Smiled, not a smirk or a half-hearted grin, a real smile. Like they were best mates who always took tea together, like they were grandfather and grandson or something. It was unnerving, but at the same time it felt comforting. It almost felt natural.

"I'm very happy to hear that. No one should be alone."

Richard nodded, pulling the spoon closer to himself. Leaning forward he covered the spoon with his elbow and let it fall into his lap. Being alone was nice, he could do as he wished. There wasn't anyone to yell at him, he couldn't disappoint anyone. But being alone was crippling though. He hated it, it hated the only sounds being his breathing, and the only voice his. Richard liked to be alone, but he hated to be isolated.

"I like being alone, but I'm not sure it's because I genuinely like it or if it's because I've been left alone of much." Richard tensed, surprised he had been so open about his emotions. He would argue with these people for days about killing, he would share his thoughts on that, but he had never really shared his personal thoughts with anyone. Not the deep ones at least. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Again, Alfred looked almost sad, Richard hadn't really had anyone be sad for him. Why did he cause such emotions in these people? Why did they care so much about him when he couldn't care less about them? "It is I who should be sorry for what I'm about to tell you." Richard looked up, silently moving the stirring spoon onto the bed beside him. "That man you met earlier, his name is Roy."

"Roy?" Richard raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that was Jason."

"I wish it was, you have to understand that that was not Jason."

"Why?"

"Richard," Alfred looked like he was near tears, "Jason has been dead for four years."

Richard sat there, staring at Alfred. Jason was…dead? How could he be dead? He was a superhero! They were nearly impossible to kill, Richard knew he had tried. His throat was dry, despite all the tea. His hands were warm, he held them folded together.

"How?" He spat the word out, staring into the teary eyes that sat across from him. There was no lie in them, there was only pain and sadness.

"He sacrificed himself, the Joker…the Joker kidnapped him and—"

"Did what the Joker does." Richard couldn't bring himself to make the man continue. Alfred nodded. "So, Jason didn't betray me." He spoke more to himself than to Alfred, the man looking at him sadly. "That's a plus." His voice was short, he could feel a strange pit of sadness welling up in his chest. He couldn't dare show it in front of someone.

"He was very brave, he cared for you very deeply."

"I know, he took me away from the League." Richard smiled, thinking back to that place. There was Jason's face, there was the light, but there was another face too. Richard looked up, "you were there. That was you!" Alfred nodded, Richard's face lighting up in a smile. "I remembered! I remembered!"

Richard was quite proud of himself, his memory was blurry at best and he had been able to remember that without prompting or anything!

"I've missed you greatly, Richard." Alfred smiled, the sadness still in his eyes.

"I'm terribly sorry about Jason." Richard was truly sorry, he didn't like the pain death brought. Not only to the victim but to all those the victim loved or even just knew.

"I know, thank you." Alfred began to gather up the tea set, placing everything on the tray. "I have to head out, but I'll be sure to see you again." Richard nodded, grateful that he was leaving, but almost excited at the idea of another visit. "I'll leave some tea for you, can't expect you to function too well without it." He smirked, chuckling. "And Richard, the spoon." Alfred held his hand out.

"What spoon?" Richard feigned surprise.

"I've cared for five boys, Jason used to try things like this very often." His hand remained out, both staring each other down. Richard sighed, picking up the silver spoon and handing it over. "Thank you."

Richard grumbled to himself, his fun had been ruined. Alfred smiled at him, this one more of a humorous tone. He turned to leave, leaving Richard alone. All alone in enemy clutches, in the silence of a cell. He stood, daring to say something.

"Can you do me a favor?" He asked, Alfred turning to look at him. "Jason introduced me to music, and I've taken to it…a lot—"

"I'll see what I can do." Alfred smiled. "I'm assuming you have the same preferences he did?"

"I'd figure." Richard shrugged. "Thank you."

"Of course. Have a pleasant evening, Richard."

"You too."

Richard sank back down into his bed, a thin smile on his face. Jason was dead. That seemed to be too painful to be real. He didn't know why he cared so much, his right hand began to warm up, as if someone was holding it. It felt like, maybe in another timeline or universe, he and Jason would've been the closest friends. Maybe even brothers.

 **AN) I hope you guys enjoyed! I hope I portrayed Alfred correctly, and I hope I can continue to write for you guys! Leave any advice in the comments below. I love you guys so much, I hope you guys have an awesome week!**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN) Thank you for being so patient with me. Musical has been taking up a lot of my time and energy, though I spend most of the time being a gangster and acting like I'm either a Gotham goon or a Newsie. I also wrote a report on how feminism changed Wonder Woman over the years, it be lit. I've given my laptop up for lent, so I'm writing this on my phone. I've taken a break to better care for my mental health, which I hope is all going well for you guys. I'm super excited to write this for you guys, and am eternally thankful for your kind words and support. This school year has gone well for me, I'm starting to place less of my value in my grades and am trying to find where my value comes from. So, without further ado-and there's been a lot of it-please enjoy this chapter of** _ **Renegade.**_

Wally's leg was bouncing faster than the Energizer Bunny on a double shot of Espresso. His hands were rubbing together, the entire situation called for him to sit still. To listen to Batman, to offer sympathetic words to Gar and Meg and to take things slow. But all Wally _wanted_ to do was move. Run around, do _something_. He couldn't just sit around while his little brother was hurting. He couldn't remember who they were, that could be fixed. What terrified Wally was the fact that Dick was addicted to some sort of drug. He tried to convince himself that it was something he and Uncle Barry and faced and defeated before, but Wally couldn't imagine his brother's mind being held hostage some chemical. Wally had been friends with kids in high school who had started using drugs, he had tried to help them quit, even had to arrest a couple of them in costume. He had seen what they had gone through, the aftereffects were horrible. He had seen people curled into balls, shaking and scratching at their skin. From what he had heard, Dick had almost done the same thing. Sweating buckets and begging for death...Wally was supposed to protect him. How could he not protect him from this?

A hand brushed over his arm. Wally's eye jumped to his right side where Artemis was sitting next to him. She tried to smile, Wally couldn't bring a smile to his face.

"You alright?" She whispered, he shook his head. How could he be alright when Dick was still being hurt? "We got him back," she squeezed his arm, trying to encourage him to see the positive in this situation, "we can help him again Wally. You can be his Steve!"

"I should've never stopped being his Steve!" Wally was on his feet, hands vibrating as he tried to keep all the anger from spilling out. It was Arty's fault, it was that monster's fault. But Wally was angry. He was tired of being angry and not being able to do anything about he. He didn't want to hurt other people, so he couldn't yell or punch or hurt anyone but that monster. So Wally had been angry for five years, waiting for Dick to smile and melt all that anger away. To have Dick hug him and make everything okay again. But that wasn't happening, Dick didn't know who he was, Dick didn't trust him.

The eyes were on him, figures. He stared right back, Kaldur was solemn, Connor looked like he was five seconds away from bursting himself, Megan still held Gar in her lap, refusing to let her little brother go after what had happened earlier. The League was looking at him with either blank or sympathetic stares. He didn't want their sympathy, he wanted them to do something! Get Dick to snap out of whatever brainwashed state he was in! They were just tip toeing around the situation, they just had to _take things slow to protect him, make sure he feels safe._ How could he feel safe when he was locked in a cell, how could they protect him when he wanted to kill them? They should just let Wally talk to the kid. Now that Dick was out of Slade's grasp Wally would win Dick over. Just like Steve brought Bucky back from the Winter Soldier Wally would be able to rescue Dick from whatever Slade had forced him to be.

"Wally, I don't think you ever stopped being someone who cares about him." Uncle Barry, of course, was trying to diffuse the situation, get him to calm down enough so he could be swept under the rug again.

"Duh! But he's not Bucky anymore, he's trapped in whatever that monster made and we need to shock him out of it!"

"That's not the best idea…" J'onn's voice was hesitant. "After his resistance to my attempts to establish a mental link it would be best to take things slow…"

"And let him be hurt more?" There was Connor's outburst. "Sure the mental links didn't work, but why not do what Alfred's doing right now and just talk to him? Give him back music and tell him stories?"

"That's what we're going to do." Bruce sounded so calm, it made Wally even angrier. Why didn't he feel as awful as they did? "With the assistance of the Titans…" the man turned to the strangers in the room. To Wally their presence was as unimportant as it was insulting.

"Why are they here? How on Earth are they connected to this?"

"Why do they have more rights to see Dick then we do?" Artemis threw in her two cents, coming to the defense of her boyfriend.

"Right now Dick doesn't trust us. It would be better to have an outside group gain his trust, and make him trust us again based on that." If only there was a flaw in that logic so Wally could point it out and get his way. His uncle was persuasive, he was calm, and gosh darn it if he wasn't right. "Let's go for a run. Just you and me." There was that confidence again, his eyes betrayed him though. Wally knew he was just as nervous as Wally was, but he had faith. Uncle Barry always believed that good would work itself out in the end, even if it wasn't the way you expected it to work.

Uncle Barry guided him out. Wally didn't want to argue anymore, all it would be was shouting with no results. Even though he was in college he was still seen as a kid by the League members. There was a swish as the door shut, Wally keeping his jaw clenched. He wanted to scream. Uncle Barry didn't take him to the zeta ports. Wally wasn't sure why they went to Barry's room on the WatchTower, but he didn't question it. He didn't want to say anything in case he yelled at his uncle, who didn't deserve it.

"Okay," Uncle Barry turned to face him. "Let's hear it."

"What?"

"Come on kiddo, I know you're upset so just let it out. Yell, scream whatever. I'll even let you curse."

Why would Barry want to hear all that? It was just what everyone had been saying, but with a lot more volume.

"Why?"

"It's not good to just keep it inside." Uncle Barry was still smiling. "Come one, do it here instead of in front of everyone. You'll seem a lot more reasonable to Bats if you're not foaming at the mouth."

It took the ginger a second to process everything, another moment to decide what he wanted to say first. He sorted through everything he wanted to say. How much Dick loved them, and now hated them, all the times Wally held onto him because the little boy thought it was just a dream and he wasn't really safe, every horrible word Dick had believed about himself. Wally could still see his blue eyes, could still feel the tears against his hands. There was almost a haunting laugh stuck in his memory,Wally could hear all the giggles and see all the smiles that made him feel like a hero. Making that boy happy, that's what made him a hero-not stopping bank robbers, but making his little brother feel happy. And it was gone, all gone. Dick was bitter, he was hurt and scared. He didn't smile anymore, there was no way he would laugh at Wally's jokes. He had tried to run away from them, he had threatened to kill Garfield. That was what Wally was supposed to save him from. His brother was hurt, and it was all that monster's fault.

Wally could've stopped it. He could've saved his brother. He could have finished the mission faster, he could have ran over to Dick-fought through the explosion and pulled him out of that monster's arms and ended this whole nightmare in one second. There were a whole lot of 'could haves' and not a lot of 'dids'.

That's when Wally West screamed and Barry Allen listened.

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Scott was moving up the stairs so quickly his suitcase was banging up the stairs like an elephant. The flight home had been tiring to say the least, Scott prefered to stay with his feet on the ground. Take off was the worst, that push back into the seat made him feel trapped. But despite the unliked traveling he was excited to be home. He had bought the most blatantly American T-shirt for Dick. George Washington riding a T-Rex wearing an American flag with fireworks in the background, honestly Dick was going to kill him but it was hilarious.

Throwing his dirty clothes into his hamper Scott grabbed the gift shop bag from his suitcases front pocket. He had bought a bunch of pins for his school bag, but the shirt was just too good to pass up. Scott, of course, teased Dick about being American everyday, Dick returning the favor with jokes about tea.

His parents were putting their bags away in their room, though Scott figured his dad was putting things away and his mother would be asleep. She never seemed to stay awake after a trip. Scott let the door slam shut behind him and jogged down the sidewalk to the Wilson's front lawn. He rarely went in through the front door, Dick normally came over to his house and if Scott came over they slipped in through the back. He rang the bell, feeling strange to be entering like a stranger. It took a couple minutes, but the door opened and Dick's grandpa looked down at him.

"Hey, if Dick home?" Scott knew Dick was always home, his best mate was quiet and kept to himself. He and his dad would go out every once in a while, but if Scott wasn't doing anything Dick wasn't either.

"You just missed him." There was something off about that. Dick hadn't said anything, but he had missed their last Skype chat so it must've been by surprise. "He left around an hour ago."

"Oh. Well, I just got back and I got this shirt for him." He held the bag out, wanting Dick to see the monstrosity as soon as possible. "Can you give it to him for me?"

"Of course." The old man took the bag, peering down inside of it. He chuckled, "he's going to like this one. Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah, there's some pretty cool stuff in DC. I really liked going up to the top of Washington Monument. I took a lot of pictures in the National Treasury museum thing and at the Library of Congress." Scott didn't just want to stand around talking, so he quickly said goodbye and returned to his own house.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Will watched the boy leave before shutting the door completely. Scott was a good boy, Richard's only friend it seemed. He didn't know how long they could keep Scott from getting curious. Slade would just tell the boy Richard died or something horrible and relocate, but Will didn't want the child to be hurt by this.

Speaking of Slade, the man was locked away in his haunt and Will prefered it that way. He had been irritable and downright unpleasant since Richard had been taken. Working on tracking the boy down and planning on how to get him back. Will moved through the house silently, the silence was normal but it still felt unnatural since there wasn't any whistling or humming seeping out from Richard's door. The room as empty.

Will removed the shirt from the bag, smirking at the silly print. Laying the shirt across Richard's unmade bed he grabbed the boy's bag from off the desk chair. It was already filled with his favorite books, albums, some toiletries, photographs and art supplies. Will had begun to add some of Richard's favorite clothes. His blue hoodie, those T-shirts with slogans, the plain shirts Slade bought and a pair of dress slacks and a dress shirt-Will wasn't going to let Richard look like a complete hooligan all the time.

He had hated the idea of the boy since he heard it. No child should be involved in such horrible things, and never treated the way he had been. When Slade had cursed up a storm when Richard had been taken Will had been relieved. He never wanted the boy to come back. Now he was safe. Will had wanted to let Richard escape but he had never had the chance to and keep his life. Now Richard had been rescued. Will, for the first time ever, was thankful to the heroes. While Slade would probably try to get the boy back Will would do everything in his power to stop it.

If Richard ever returned Will would be ready. He would take the boy in the middle of the night and get him away from all this. That's why he had the bag, that's why he hid it in the trunk of his car.

William Wintergreen never wanted Richard Grayson to be near Slade Wilson again.

 **AN) I hope you guys enjoyed! For me it was important to focus on how people reacted to Dick being rescued. Wally's going to have to deal with uncertainty and feeling helpless for a little while longer. I would appreciate your thoughts and prayers this week, since opening night for Guys and Dolls is this Wednesday and ya girl is weak. Please leave a comment, I am always looking for new ideas and ways to improve. Remember, today is going to be a good day and here's why-you are you, and that's enough. Never doubt your worth, ability, importance or strength. You can do it, I know you can. I love you guys, see you later.**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN) I'm back! After the chaos of the final week of school it was nice to be able to write for you guys again! I've been out and about, having traveled down to Chicago to see Hamilton with my family. A fantastic show! Wonderful, hilarious! Listen to the soundtrack. I should be updating more this summer, so I hope to bring you more content. Enjoy!**

Time had been dragging on and on. Richard wanted to think it had been hours, maybe even a few days, but his gut instinct told him that only a few hours, maybe even minutes had slipped away while he swung his legs in the air. His back was arched up, head resting on the ground. The room was upside down, Richard watching lint balls rolling across the floor. For all their pomp and power the League had a horrible cleaning crew.

Being in a strange position always helped him think, he would tuck into a ball on whatever rooftop he was stranded on to run through all the escape plans he might need in case of emergency. Richard needed to plan. As much as he hated everything that the League stood for he needed to go along. Snakes would shed their skins when they needed to, but they were still snakes. Richard was an assassin, but he might have to shed that appearance of being a willing assassin but he was still that. He could sneak under the League's radar, they would think he was being such a good little reformed criminal they would ease up their reigns. Everyone did it, if they thought someone was under their thumb they would reward that someone because there wasn't a need to pressure them anymore. It had its problems, maybe the League would be made of crazies and they wouldn't care if he was starting to reform, but it was the only plan that saved his skin in the now. Richard's back slid across the edge of the bed, his body plopping on the floor. He wasn't a traitor, he was just playing the part. Master had taught him to do it, to act like a lost kid who needed directions to the bus station, how to play the part of a kid that belonged in whatever fancy event he was supposed to infiltrate. He was just playing a part, feeding the League and their kids lines. Hopefully Master saw it that way too.

Richard rolled onto his stomach, puffing out air as he watched the lint ball move across the floor. It blew away and drew closer to him as he breathed. He was used to having nothing to do, there was only so many vines a person could watch, but there was always something else to think on. Scott, art pieces he could improve or finish, books he could either write or read. But every train of thought looped back to 'I'm being held hostage and I have no way to get home, and when I do I'm going to be in trouble' station. Everything was looping and he felt trapped, Richard flopped over to his back, fingers running through the greasy knotts of his hair. He needed a shower, he needed more sleep, he needed to go home. At least two of those three were achievable.

"Um, you good down there?"

Richard peered up at the voice. Bart. Richard was almost relieved it was him. Bart, for whatever odd reason, thought Richard was cool...or whatever, it would be easy to put his plan into action. Friend him up, make him think that Richard was going to be his friend. The League would listen to him, to one of their own.

"Fine," He pushed himself up to his elbows. "How's your nose?"

"I'm okay. Speed healing." He tapped the side of his nose, a goofy smile on his face. Richard wanted to cringe, but he needed this kid to like him, to really like him. "Don't worry about La'gaan, he doesn't try to think clearly when he gets angry." Bart slid down beside the assassin, Richard turning to face him. "He's normally not that much of a jerk."

"I mean, I had that green kid near death so I can't really play the totally innocent victim." Richard shrugged, Bart nodded. "I'm really sorry about that by the way. I just...blanked and did what's normal I guess."

"You really know how to snap someone's neck?" Bart leaned in, Richard copied his body language, shifting from his elbows to sitting upright .

"Yeah, it's kinda like assassin 101."

"There's a class on that?" Bart looked a little pale, he didn't like this topic but he was trying to connect with Richard. So he needed to shift the topic to something Bart was more comfortable with, something he was interested in. Too bad he knew absolutely nothing about the kid.

"Not really," he chuckled, stretching his neck back, "I do have to go to like, a normal school."

Bart nodded softly. "I never went to school. Future kind of sucks."

"Do you like...not know how to read? 'Cause I can teach you man-"  
"No, no! I can read and write and stuff." Bart laughed, shrugging and crossing his legs. "Formal school wasn't really a thing."

"Good, it sucks."

Bart nodded, "I've heard the horror stories, is the pacer test really a thing?"

"I've been wondering the same thing!" Richard threw his hands in the air. "It's not a thing in England. Like okay, how many standardized tests to Americans take a year?"

Bart shrugged, "Jaime says end of year exams are worse, cause they count for a grade."

"You're not going to school now?"

"Imagine that conversation." Bart screwed his face up. "Hello this is my grandson, we don't have any documents proving he never exists and his parents haven't even been born yet, but he'd like to go to your school please." Richard snickered.

"Batman hasn't made you a false ID?"

"I mean, yeah but with my excitable mouth I'd reveal everything about the future over lunch."

"Talking about flying cars, robot maids, everything out of the Jetsons?"

Bart's face flickered for half a second before he plastered a smile on again. Richard studied his eyes as he laughed, trying to go along with Richard's musings, he was lying. Richard could always tell when people were lying. Bart had looked left and had started to tug on his ear. Richard could watch for that again, see if that was a tell or a coincidence.

There was a lull, Richard wanting to leave the silence lie to make Bart feel pressured to tell him more. Instead the teen leapt to his feet and clapped his hands together.

"No one knows I'm here, and I don't think I'm supposed to be. I'm going to jet before I get caught."

"Superhero breaking the rules," Richard stood beside him, "what on Earth has the world come to?"

Bart shrugged, snickering under his breath before putting on his serious face once again. "Look, pretty soon the League is going to strike you a deal. Take it. I know you don't exactly trust us, but we're not the bad guys in this situation. Please," his hand was wrapped around Richard's wrist, "you're my hero. Please let me help you."

He was sincere. Richard could tell when people were being honest with him and when they were lying, though it was usually the latter. "Okay. Thanks for visiting, it gets pretty boring all by myself."

Bart smiled sadly, "I'll see what I can do."

Richard watched his back vanish through the almost unnoticeable door. He had planted the seeds of guilt, sparked a connection and had gotten inside the ginger's head. It had been all too easy, and a little truth had been in it. Mixing in more truth than lie helped throw people off your scent, Richard had soon learned. He was glad that Bart had stopped in, while the room wasn't white it was still all one dull, plain color that seemed to make the walls blend into the ceiling and floor. It had been a distraction from the circling...which was starting up again.

Richard began pacing, placing one foot in front of the other, placing toe to heel and counting steps. Circling was what drove him insane in the first place. It all started with his stomach getting knotted and his temperature skyrocketing. Every solution he tried to offer up was bashed down by the horrible 'what if'.

 _Well, I'll just ride it out._ _ **What if they don't let up?**_ _There's nothing I can do about it now._ _ **What if they kill you?**_ _They're not complete monsters!_ _ **What if they've lost all morals?**_ _I can protect myself._ _ **What if they let your master have his way with you?**_

Richard froze. That was a 'what if' that terrified him, at made him feel guilty for being afraid of it. He had no reason to be afraid of his master. As that thought was running through his head his hand slowly traced the gash that traced his shoulder and the better part of his neck before following the faint line across his check. He knew he had every reason to fear his master, and he knew he deserved what he got. But it was still scary, he still didn't want any of it to happen to him. He had all the marks, his back was covered with scars that he couldn't remember getting. He had the lessons on his body. Don't speak too loud, don't speak too quietly, do as you're told, learn faster, don't ask for things you have to earn them, learn your place… What lesson would it be this time?

"Don't get caught by the enemy, brat." He snarled under his breath, wanting to let all chaos in his brain into the open air, maybe then it would stop the spiral. He spun, swinging his right hand through the air pretending he was slapping someone. "I'm sorry," He whispered, his hand held against his cheek, "it won't ever happen again."

Richard froze, letting his hand drop to his side and his lungs catch up to his heart. "Everything will be okay." He mumbled, dragging himself over to the cot. "Everything will be okay in the end." He tumbled down, letting his face mush against the pillow. What did it matter, what did anything matter when the only future he had could be bloody and bruised and locked in the haunt?

It really didn't matter at all, just like him.

 _ **Breakline**_

Bart slunk around the corner, his heart was early pounding out of his chest. While he hadn't been told to stay away from Richard he was sure that no one would be very pleased with his course of action.

So far so good. He wanted to get far away from the holding cell, and while speeding away was an option, Bart often would trip or lose focus and run into something or someone, so he was reduced to sneaking around like a normal human.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard screaming. It was muffled, but there was definitely an argument going on somewhere. Bart liked drama, or as Cassie called it, the tea. It was coming from a few halls down, so Bart did a quick about face and marched silently towards the commotion.

It was coming from his grandpa's room. It was Wally, Bart stood outside the door. He didn't even need to press his ear against it to hear what was being said. Wally was yelling about how much he loved Dick, how he wanted to hold him and make him smile and laugh again. Wally was screaming about the guilt he felt for not being able to be fast enough. How much he hated Slade for ever thinking about hurting his brother.

 _Oh man if Dick could hear this..._ Bart began fumbling with his phone, drawing up the voice memo app. He hit record as Wally said something about "I love him more than I love myself. I'd do anything to help him…"

It just got better from there.

 _ **Breakline**_

The lights that had been off at the Jordan house were back on. Carol held a sleeping girl in her arms, carrying her daughter to her own bed. The trip had been wonderful, Christy had loved seeing the princesses and eating ice cream and riding all the rides. Hal had been the model father, carrying her on his shoulders, letting Christy know how much he loved her.

Carol placed a kiss on her daughter's head, leaving her to dreams of magic and adventure. Things would be normal once more, her family was going to be alright. Carol trapsed down the stairs, stopping at the look on her husband's face. His phone was held to his ear, his eyes blinking slowly as he shut it off before meeting her gaze.

"Hal?"

"They found him." Hal ran a hand across his face, Carol moving towards him. "They found my boy."

 **AN) I hope you folks like this! Please, as I am struggling on plot and ways to advance it, leave a comment with some advice and ideas. I enjoy writing for you guys and love seeing your feedback. I hope y'all have a fantastic summer and a good week. Love you!**


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